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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25535395">Merak</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooddaysunshine/pseuds/gooddaysunshine'>gooddaysunshine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hatchetfield Happies [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, also a few of these characters will only come later but oh boy it'll be a doozy, it wouldn't happen for real but let's just pretend for a little bit, just let me have my happy corner where paul and emma have kids, really i just wanted to do some family paulkins and honestly none of you can stop me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:42:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>55,886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25535395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooddaysunshine/pseuds/gooddaysunshine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(Serbian/Turkish): A feeling of bliss and the sense of oneness with the universe that comes from the simplest of pleasures, such as spending time feasting and merrymaking</p><p> </p><p>Yet a third installation of the timeline that originated in Forelsket. I just couldn't leave this little family be, so here we are.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hatchetfield Happies [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chaos</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I swear I will also finish Colorado, but I couldn't stop thinking about this little universe. It just kept calling me back, so here I am once again to indulge in my silly little AU.</p><p>I hope you all enjoy, should you choose to read. This is a part of a, now, trilogy, so you're welcome to pick up here but there will be a lot of blanks that would be filled in from the first two stories. </p><p>Anyway, here we go! Enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You better stop. Mom’s home, and she’ll kick your ass!”</p><p>Emma had just ducked through the front door, letting it groan all the way until it closed with a soft thud behind her. As she kicked her shoes off, a cacophony of young voices wrapped around her head. Not that she should have anticipated anything different. It was technically the first Friday night of summer. The last day for both Maple Hills Middle School and Hatchetfield High had come and gone on that fateful Friday, so the fact that there were definitely more than two children in her house wasn’t shocking.</p><p>“Daniela!”</p><p>She tossed her sweater that had accompanied her to the office that day in the event that the air conditioning was blasting. Nothing was ever certain in that building. Some days it felt so hot that she thought her clothes were going to melt right off of her. Other times she could have sworn they were trying to keep dead bodies from decomposing the whole place was kept so cold. She had considered investing in a second winter jacket just to keep in her office. It was strange working at Pinebluff Ecological Improvement and Preservation mostly because it felt like she was getting paid too much to… not do all that much. And her boss, John, was aloof and more of a caricature or <em> Twin Peaks </em> character than an actual person, but he gave her good reviews each year and the money kept flowing. So she decided it wasn’t worth it to start poking around. </p><p>“Why would she kick <em> my </em> ass? <em> You’re </em>the one being a little shit!”</p><p>From time to time, when she came home on a night like this one, she wondered what it would have been like to walk in and find Jane smirking into a large glass of chardonnay at the kitchen island as a gaggle of children ran amuck through the house. The shit eating grin that would take up the entire fucking house because it was a place Emma said she would never be in a million years. The knowing look that would bore into her skin because Jane was smart enough to only have one. And then the inevitable pride that would be exuded from every single pore when both children would run up to Emma excitedly and tell her about their days. </p><p>
  <em> “Elijah!” </em>
</p><p>But her sister was not at the island. She never would be, but the next best thing was there. She raised a hand to her mouth to stifle the laughter that was bubbling up in her throat. Paul stood on the side of the island to face the entrance to the kitchen from the foyer. He was in the same t-shirt as he had been wearing when he tried to pull her back into bed that morning. The laptop was still open in front of him at six PM on a Friday night, meaning he likely had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of children after they got home from school. His fingertips pressed against his closed eyes beneath his glasses. Hair stuck up at odd angles at the crown of his head like he had just woken up. Or maybe as though he had never fully been awake all day. When his hands fell down to either side of his laptop, his eyes caught hers and relief came off of him in waves. </p><p>Before he could give her any sort of greeting, two tall gangly babies were right up in her face. They were both at least at eye level with her. Her brown eyes stared down at her after a spring growth spurt and Paul’s blues were just at level with her own. “Mom, thank god,” Eli sighed, hands moving to wave around emphatically. “<em> She </em> won’t stop giving me shit because we ate food that was fair game in the cabinet. It was like she came into the kitchen and just started having a fucking meltdown--”</p><p>Dani’s hands clenched into fists at her sides as a beet red crept up from her neck, over her cheeks, and ears. If there were a moment where a real person could have cartoonishly had steam blowing out of their ears, it would have been this one. “No,” she shouted, stomping her foot. “No, that’s not what happened and you know it!” She turned her attention to Emma, eyes wide. Looking just like Paul’s any time she had spoken to him back at Beanies. Anxious. “It was the whole pack of Nutter Butters that Daddy got me at the store.” She jabbed her finger in Eli’s direction. “<em> They </em> came home and ate the <em> whole </em> pack and then just left it in the cabinet!”</p><p>“Oh what? Forget to write your name on it, dumbass?”</p><p>“You know Daddy gets them special for me! Why would--”</p><p>“You’re not the only one who likes them, you--”</p><p>“But Daddy--”</p><p>"'<em>But Daaaaaddddddyyyyy’-- </em>”</p><p>“Enough!” All three of them had their attention brought back to the island where Paul had just slapped his palms against the granite. “You’ve been going at it for the last… I don’t know. Forty minutes? That’s enough, guys. You--”</p><p>“Daddy, tell him you bought them for me! Make him apologize!”</p><p>“Mom, tell her that if it’s in the kitchen, it’s free game!”</p><p>Letting out a heavy breath, Emma gave Paul a lopsided grin. His brows raised like he knew the hammer was about to be laid down in some way, shape, or form. “So I think there’s an easy way to settle this,” she began while wrapping an arm around each child’s shoulders. “Cage fight. Battle to the death. Whoever wins gets to live and eat all the fucking Nutter Butters forever.”</p><p>Eli’s eyes went wide. “Mom, what the fuck?” he muttered. “No… I’m not going to…” His glance caught Dani’s, whose eyes were darting between Emma and him. Her jaw hung slack like she wanted to respond, but the words weren’t there. “Dad, why would--”</p><p>“Paul, don’t you think that’s the best way to settle this?” Emma mused, pulling the kids closer to her. She felt smaller than ever before as an twelve and fifteen year old both towered over her. “We’ll get you a nice flail, Dan. And for Eli, I’m thinking a mace. Then Dad and me are going to pour a nice drink and watch you two duke it out ‘til the bitter end.”</p><p>“Mom, no,” Dani whispered as if any of the words that had left her mother’s mouth were anything more than fiction. “Mom, please don’t--”</p><p>“Well, you two are fighting like these goddamn cookies are life and death, so we might as well raise the stakes, right?” They both shook their heads with great fervor to emphasize the fact that they were undoubtedly disinterested in a cage fighting match. “Alright, then Eli, apologize to your sister for eating her cookies, and Dani, apologize to your brother for overreacting.”</p><p>“But--”</p><p>“Does a fight to the death sound better to you?”</p><p>“Sorry for eating your shit.”</p><p>“Sorry for giving you shit.”</p><p>“See? That wasn’t so bad. Now.” She pulled Dani toward her to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek before repeating the action with Eli. “Hello, seventh grader and sophomore. You’ve both survived another year of hell, and the pride I feel for you is out of this world. Now, go be free and merry, children.” She poked her head past Eli to look further into the kitchen with a smile. To her surprise, only one addition to the household was there, and he was barely an addition at all. “Hey, Jasper, will you be joining us for the majority of another summer?”</p><p>A messy blonde head of hair was tousled even more as the young boy scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He was nearly as tall as Eli was with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses propped up on his long delicate nose. “Hi, Mrs. Matthews,” he mumbled, looking down at the floor. The first week of summer was always the worst as far as awkwardness went with Eli’s best friend. The two would spend the majority of their summer on bikes out through the woods or holed up in Eli’s bedroom playing video games or just watching TV. The boy liked being with them, and neither Paul nor Emma was going to tell him he had to go home. Occasionally, he would return home for a weekend or two, scooped up by an Audi SUV with heavily tinted windows and then dropped back off a few days later. No contact was ever made between the parents. “I hope you don’t mind. I could--”</p><p>“Cut that shit out,” she scoffed, crossing the room and pulling the nervously bumbling Jasper to her for a kiss on the cheek. “You might as well take the last name, too, because you basically live here anyway.” She smiled at him as his large, round brown eyes flicked from her face to the floor. A small grin lingered on his lips. “Now, all of you need to get the fuck out of my kitchen. We’ll call you when the pizza’s here.” All three kids begrudgingly skulked out of the kitchen. Eli and Dani all the while nudged each other harder with their elbows as they inched further into the foyer. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I get the medieval weaponry out?” Emma called after them, prompting both of their arms to fall slack at their sides. “That’s what I thought.”</p><p>She sauntered over to the side of the island, where Paul was still standing but now engrossed in whatever work he had been pulled out of with the bickering. “Hey, nerd,” she greeted, settling with her back against the island beside where his laptop was set up. “I thought we talked about Friday nights. Lunch breaks and leaving work at five. Remember that or did you get distracted by all the talk of our children fighting to the death?”</p><p>While his fingers continued typing away, his eyes shut and the whisper of a smirk fell on his lips. “I think you really had Eli going there for a second,” he chuckled as his eyes opened again to read over whatever he had just typed out. “I don’t know that there’s ever been a time I’ve been more thankful to see you, though.” His finger tapped the trackpad heavily before he pushed the computer shut. Lifting his glasses to rest on the top of his head, he finally brought his attention back to her. “Hey, beaut--”</p><p>“Oh, shut the fuck up,” she groaned, shoving his shoulder hard. “Don’t be gross. There are kids here, dummy.”</p><p>“I don’t know. I have a vague recollection of how two of those kids came to exist in--”</p><p>“Ugh, you’re the worst,” she grumbled, yanking him down by the collar of his t-shirt to bring their lips together. Soft. Gentle. The same churning in her belly she felt during that first kiss in the hallway of the old house after he had picked her up after a nine hour shift at Beanies back-to-back with a three hour night class lecture with Hidgens. She pulled away from him just enough to be able to look at him. A hand raised to his cheek. “How are you today, Papi? Did you sleep any better last night?”</p><p><br/>“Yeah, the melatonin is helping,” he explained with his smile still lingering on his lips. He leaned into her touch ever so slightly. “Also the time off next week should be pretty nice even if we’re not going anywhere. Gives me some time to catch up on my sleep.”</p><p>“Well, good,” she replied. Their eyes were glued to each other. She tried to make the effort to alert him of the seriousness in her words. “No more of those fucking dreams. We’ve got to keep you on the up and up. How else am I supposed to good cop, bad cop these kids? I need my good cop that just gets slightly intimidating when he chooses to yell every now and again.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, alright, chief,” he responded as he dipped his head back in to press another kiss to her lips. His kisses felt like that night in the old house when they danced in the tiny kitchen to Eartha Kitt and he drunkenly asked her to move in with him. Like the anticipation of something new and familiar at the same time. God, Jane would have fucking died to hear that she had been kissing this same nerd for nearly two decades and didn’t have any intention of stopping any time soon</p><p>“God, you guys are gross.” They broke away to find Eli sliding into the kitchen to grab a bag of chips out of a cabinet, easily reaching up onto a high shelf to get the flavor he wanted. “Like, get a room or something. I don’t know. Don’t do that here… in public. Disgusting.”</p><p>“Maybe if you didn’t eat snacks <em> before </em> dinner, it wouldn’t be an issue,” Paul challenged.</p><p>To no avail, though. Eli turned around with the now open bag of chips and munched as he backed into the foyer. “I’m a growing boy, Daddy-o,” he insisted with a shrug. “You’re not, and you’ve already got kids. So I mean, it’s not like--”</p><p>“Oh, and I’m the gross one? Unbelievable.”</p><p>“Listen, Papi, I don’t make the rules here,” he continued with Emma’s broad shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Mom does.” He pointed directly at her before scurrying out of view and then up the stairs. “Jas, we’ve got your favorite. The kettle jalapeno chips.” </p><p>A door squealed shut upstairs, leaving Paul and Emma once again to their own devices. His gaze remained out into the foyer, though it was tilted upward more as if he was really watching something upstairs through the ceiling. “When do you think they’re going to come clean?” he wondered, tapping his fingers on the granite. “I mean, it’s not like Eli’s slick.”</p><p>“Yeah, thank god they both got your ability to lie because I was a master of fucking deception,” she shot back while lifting herself up onto the island. She glanced over her shoulder and then shrugged herself. “I don’t know. As long as it takes them to be comfortable, I guess.”</p><p>“But, Em, they’re teenagers and things are… going to start happening. Is it really right to be letting them--”</p><p>“Listen, bud, just because you didn’t get laid in high school doesn’t mean other people weren’t doing it.” He furrowed his brows almost like he was offended by her joke, even though he had been very open about not even being kissed until college. Her fingers trailed across his chest and then up onto his jaw, pulling him to look at her. “Listen, what I’m saying is that they literally just sit up there and watch <em> Parks &amp; Rec </em> over and over again while taking breaks to pee and play fucking video games. They’re fine. You’ve got to let them be kids, man. Okay?”</p><p>His eyes scanned over her face like they had so many times before. Constantly searching for some sort of confirmation on anything and everything. He had trusted her completely very early on. Very head over heels immediately. There wasn’t a moment she could recall where he had looked at her like she was anything less than the whole entire world. “Okay,” he repeated, resigned to the fact that she was right yet again, but there was no way to deny the grin that remained brightening his features.</p><p>“Okay,” she said with her own smile beaming back at him. He looked tired and older. Fine lines had set in around his eyes and mouth. She thought about how his eyes crinkled closed when he laughed or how big and ridiculous his smile got when she walked in a room. The greying in his hair had slowed down at his temples just a few flecks of white here and there cutting through his dusty brown hair. Same soft ovular jaw and pillowy fucking lips that goddamn bastard. Same blue as the sky eyes. God, she couldn’t believe how bad she <em> still </em>had it for this dork. After all those years. Eighteen of them to be precise. “I love you, doofus.”</p><p>“Oh, good,” he sighed dramatically like he had been holding his breath in anticipation. “I was worried that had changed since this morning.” Maybe he wasn’t the exact nerd who couldn’t ask her out on a day many moons ago. He had picked up on a few things here or there over the years. A little more joking. A little more confidence. “But I love you, too, Emma.”</p><p>She pulled him in close again, seemingly having the intent of kissing him again, but she stopped just shy of his lips. A smirk twisted up on her own. “Hah, fucking sucker,” she scoffed, eyes dragging up to meet his. His breath was sweet on her skin. He must have been eating some of the strawberries that were sliced in the fridge. “You love me. What a fucking nerd.”</p><p>“A gross nerd. Don’t forget gross.”</p><p>“Oh, trust me. I would <em> never. </em>”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Late Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul and Emma watch some late night TV and things go awry.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'M SO HAPPY Y'ALL ARE DOWN WITH THIS. I'M SO EXCITED TO BE BACK HERE TBH.</p><p>Thank you so much for joining me back in this lil 'verse.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When it came to taking time off, Paul usually intended to go to bed early and catch up on the sleep he always seemed to never get enough of, but each and every time, he found himself staying up late to catch up on the time he didn’t get to spend with Emma instead. Usually, it would be late nights sitting in bed, idly chatting as she scrolled through her phone while he half-read whatever book he picked up off his nightstand. Laughing and joking about whatever had gone on the past couple of months that they hadn’t gotten to talk about. Usually, it was something like Ted hopelessly pining over Charlotte, trying desperately to get her to move in with him, but getting shot down time and time again because he had historically been nothing but a sleazeball. Or how she was pretty sure she saw that Greenpeace girl stationed outside of Starbucks, now working with UNICEF. Just like a casual conversation between friends. For all intents and purposes, it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She often liked to remind him that she liked him a lot. Hanging out with him. Talking with him. Just existing with him felt nice. He would smile and return the sentiment, looking up from his book to make eye contact with her. She had aged like a fine wine, meaning barely. There were some smile lines forming on her cheeks and at the corners of her eyes. Her hands showed her as being older than the rest of her features did. They were sinewy with long graceful fingers, especially considering how small her hands were in comparison to his own. She had begun to go grey at her right temple. Just slightly but noticeable enough in her dark hair. Watching her talk excitedly about some memory from Beanies that had just resurfaced, his mind wandered back to his own parents, who he hadn’t seen in years, or to Tom and Jane, who didn’t have the chance to reflect before it was too late, and he couldn’t imagine how he spent so many years unhappy. How so many people were willing to just stay in terribly dismal situations just for the sake of stereotypical normalcy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same thought came to his mind as they rounded out an episode of a show documenting unsolved murders around the US</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Watching the woman’s widower, he felt his skin crawl in his lack of interest in finding who had killed his late wife. How each and every other person in town had known there were issues, but he hadn’t the slightest clue. “Y’know,” Emma started, crunching down on a piece of popcorn as she repositioned herself against the headboard of their bed. “If you went missing or got murdered, I’d find the person who did it and kill them myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He arched a brow, looking down at her. Her eyes didn’t leave the TV that was rolling through the credits. “Yeah?” Another piece of popcorn was tossed into her mouth, and she nodded, reaffirming her statement. “No shit? You would go full vigilante on my murderer to avenge my death?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes shit, bud,” she confirmed, finally looking up at him. Her face squished up. “You’ve got shit on your face.” She reached up to brush her thumb beside his mouth, gently pushing away what he assumed was popcorn dust. When she had completed her shit removal mission, the hand rested against his cheek. Eyes stared up at him dead serious. “I would absolutely find and violently murder your murderer. That doesn’t give you goddamn clearance to go and get murdered. You should still actively fucking avoid that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, no getting murdered. I’ll add that to the daily to do list.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t already on there? You watch this shit all the time, Paul, but you’re acting like you’re fucking new at this. I can’t believe this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, don’t worry starting right now, that’s hitting the top of the list everyday.” He leaned over her as the next episode began to play. Ominous theme music played softly with a deep-voiced narrator speaking over top of it. His palm pressed itself against the mattress beside her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the light from the TV bounce off of his wedding ring. In the split second he was distracted by the glint of light, she slid down the headboard and away from the kiss he was trying to plant on her lips. All the while, a shit-eating grin was plastered over her face. “What the fuck? One second you’re talking about avenging my death and the next you’re running away from me? I’m getting mixed signals here, Em.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed a noncommittal response, running her hands from his shoulders, over his chest, and down his stomach. “I guess--and I know this might come as a shocker--that talking about you getting murdered doesn’t really set the mood,” she commented while her hands moved back up to the sides of his neck. Her eyes drifted to his lips and then back to his eyes. “But you’re pretty okay, so I think I’ll let it slide just this once.” With that, she pulled him down to her. Their lips met, and still after all this time, he felt his stomach flip from the electricity running through him. Like static electricity had begun to run through his veins. Like a tidal wave was crashing over him, warm and full. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers thread through his hair and yanked him to be closer to her. Instead of the move she was looking for, though, one that was fluid and a little sexy, he lost his balance. In his clumsiness, his other hand caught the edge of the bowl of popcorn that had been between them, sending it flying off the bed in a strange form of aerial art. The plastic bowl clattered to the floor with a loud thud. Kernels rolled across the wood floor in every direction. They had broken away from each other to watch everything in what felt like slow motion. “Oh my fucking god,” she breathed as she looked back to him with an open mouth smile. “I’m actually impressed. That got some fucking air.” His head dropped down next to her head, laughter erupting from her. A hand ran down her back. “You really do know how to set the mood, huh? I can’t believe I had two fucking kids with you. How did you manage to not ruin the fucking mood every--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, he pushed himself up and away from her. “I’m going to go get the vacuum,” he announced, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to tiptoe around the popcorn scattered over the floor. He turned briefly to point back at her. For a split second, he was distracted by her. Illuminated in the blue light of the TV, shadows flashing over her face as the show continued to play. She propped her head up in her hand to watch him with an amused smile on her face. Dark hair spilled from her head and over their light sheets. If he hadn’t known any better, he might have thought they were back in that old little house. He might have thought it was the first night she really stayed over not to just have sex or because she locked herself out of her apartment. He might have thought he had just fallen in love with her. “Don’t move. I’ll, um, be back. I’m… we’re not done here, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he stumbled out of the room, he could hear her cackling after him, and while she was making fun of him, he couldn’t help but grin to himself in what he expected to be a dark hallway. However, he found the hall slightly illuminated from the open door at the end of the hallway. Eli’s bedroom. Music poured out just loud enough that he was able to make out all the lyrics. Dani’s bedroom door was also cracked open. He poked his head in, smiling when he could just make out her shape. Sprawled out, legs poking out from beneath her sheets. Mouth slack, breathing softly and evenly. Stuffed giraffe pulled tight against her chest. Hair splayed out at every possible angle around her. Carefully, he pulled the door shut before continuing down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last time he had checked the time it was nearly three in the morning, so he moved toward the door to flip off the light and turn off the music for the likely sleeping boys. As he had done at Dani’s room, he pushed the door open ever so gently. Quietly enough to go unnoticed. Which was very unfortunate for all parties involved as he stood in a ribbon of light coming from the ceiling fan at the top of Eli’s bedroom. His eyes had fallen on the bed directly before him and the sight that sat there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the last year, Eli had shot up several inches. At his physical with the pediatrician back in March, he had been five foot nine. His shoulders had been starting to square out along with his jaw. Looking more like Emma as the days went on. He was lean and long and turning out to be more muscular than Paul had ever remembered being at his age. Although, him taking to track and cross country really did help that cause. From the hall, Paul watched his son’s long thin arms hold himself up over his bed. He took note of a tuft of armpit hair he hadn’t remembered being there before. Curly hair that was really in need of being cut fell gently over the side of Eli’s face, and that was where he found the third honorary child below him. Jasper, all solid with his unreal blonde hair and his unassuming presence. Eyes closed and lips pressed together. Exactly what he had thought was happening behind closed doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly, he attempted to back down the hallway. Turning on his heel, he went to walk past Dani’s door again, only to step on a particularly creaky floor board. “Dad?” Eli’s voice cut through the air he had already made unnecessarily tense. He looked over his shoulder to find Eli standing in the doorway, eyes wide. Music stopped. Beyond him, back in the bedroom, he could see Jasper fumbling to put his glasses and t-shirt back on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking, Paul stared back at Eli unsure of what to do or say. “I, um, thought you guys might have fallen asleep… so I was going to turn the light and the music off, but I mean… as you were? I guess?” The words were just spilling out of his mouth. It was something that he and Emma had been expecting. A comment she had made offhandedly one day as the kids and friends traipsed around the backyard putting on some sort of show. Eli found himself wrapped up in a light blanket that had been out on the patio, singing Chaka Khan into a wooden spoon he brought outside. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Either he’s gay or he’s going to be the greatest fucking actor of his generation. Either way, though, look how stupid fucking happy he is.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on out here?” Both Eli and Paul looked down the hall to see Emma poking out of their bedroom at the far end, walking toward them. “Is everything…” her words trailed off as she took in the scene before her. A hand ran over her face and then fell to her side. “Okay,” she sighed. “I didn’t picture this happening at three AM, but here we are.” She turned, hitting the creaky floorboard with force. “Come on, troops. We’ve got some things to discuss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all followed her downstairs in silence. Quietly rounding the corner from the foyer into the kitchen. The tiled floor was cold beneath bare feet that slapped with each footstep in the silence of the night. They gathered around the kitchen island. The boys sitting on stools as Emma crossed the kitchen to fill a glass with water. Paul slipped into the living room for a moment, reappearing with a throw blanket, which he hung off of Eli’s bare shoulders. The central air kicked on, and Eli snuggled into the blanket almost as if it were a shield. Paul’s heart sunk in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, guys,” she started, bracing herself against the countertop to face all three of them. “First of all, this is no big deal, okay?” He watched both boys stiffen. “Listen, we don’t give a shit who you decide to like.” Eli looked over his shoulder at Paul, who nodded in agreement as he tried to hold back a yawn. “That goes for both of you.” She brought her attention to Eli in particular. “Eli, we love you no matter what. Even if you decided to… I don’t fucking know… commit armed robbery, we will still love you. If you want to mack on a guy all day everyday, god bless and good fucking luck, baby boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, I didn’t know. I’m sorry I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, no, don’t apologize,” Paul chimed in, hands landing on his shoulders. Those brown eyes that had grown so familiar looking up at him filled with uncertainty and anxiety. Two feelings he wasn’t used to seeing in Eli. “You don’t need to be sorry. Things are weird when you’re a teenager anyway. Sorting things out--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sorting things out, though. This is how I feel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, yeah,” he continued, attempting to not back himself into a corner. “But everything else is so freaking weird and things are changing. All I’m saying is it’s okay to be nervous about this stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What Dad is not very eloquently trying to say is that it’s okay to be you. It’s okay to keep whatever feelings you have to yourself until you’re ready to share them. If anything, big dingus over here is probably very sorry for fucking walking in on you.” Emma threw a hand in Paul’s direction before taking a sip of her water. She looked over to Jasper, who was sitting with his eyes in his lap as he picked at the skin on the side of his thumb. “And you, young man.” His head darted up, eyes wide. “All the same things go for you, too. We love you, too. You’re our favorite son that wasn’t expelled from my body.” Both Eli and Jasper’s faces twisted up in disgust but hints of smiles were left on their lips. “We still want you here, and you know you’re as much a part of this family as any of us are, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mrs. M--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, enough with that shit. Please call me literally anything else. It feels so formal and gross.” Jasper nodded and looked back down at the counter, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “That being said. Doors open now especially at night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, come--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, this is fine. We do not care. Especially if this is what makes you happy, we want you to be happy more than anything in the entire world. However, you’re still a couple of fourteen year olds, so you will have to abide by the house rules, child.” Eli glanced back to Paul again as if he was going to cut in and change the rules, but he simply raised his hands, making it clear that rulemaking had nothing to do with him. “Feel lucky that we’re going to let the sleepover thing stay the way it is. Luckily, I trust your father to sleep so lightly that any fucking funny business won’t go unnoticed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eli pursed his lips together as he pulled the blanket tighter around him. “Okay, fine,” he huffed, but the look on his face read more as relieved than annoyed. “Thanks, Mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walked around the island to pull Eli into her arms. “Listen, kid,” she whispered into his hair. “We’re the first people who loved you. We loved you before you were even you, and we’re going to fucking love you forever, okay?” He nodded into her neck, arms poking out from beneath the blanket to wrap around her back. “I love you, Eli. Even if you start stupid shit with your sister all the fucking time for some reason, I still love you.” He backed away from her hug and made an effort to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. Her hands flew up to his cheeks. “Don’t you fucking cry. If you cry, I’ll cry. Then Dad’ll cry, and we’re all going to make Jasper so much more uncomfortable than he already is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each of the boys took a turn at the sink, filling glasses up and draining the water out of them. Watching them from across the room, Paul found himself stifling a chuckle as he saw them fumbling around each other. Acting more like a couple of people who just met than two kids who had known each other since the third grade. Jasper fumbled over his words, which elicited a laugh from Eli. Quiet and innocently intimate. He glanced back to Emma, who leaned over the counter, chin her hand. Eyelids heavy. A yawn clearly rising in her throat. “Em, why don’t you head up to bed? I can handle this I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to fucking tell me twice,” she yawned, slinking out of the kitchen. “Goodnight, boys. Remember, nothing funny, or Paul will wake me up and I will kick both of your asses six ways to Sunday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Escorting the boys back upstairs was not nearly as awkward as he thought it was going to be. Jasper scooted quickly up the stairs and down the hall to Eli’s room, where he likely was going to be curled up on the mattress they set up for him on the floor in the summer especially. Making it clear there would be no funny business being had. As he walked behind Eli, he smiled at the blanket still around his shoulders. Almost like he was a little boy again, walking around the house wrapped up in his blanket, talking about Santa Claus coming to bring him presents because he had been so good all year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had grown up so much in the last year alone. No longer the sweet little boy that would crawl into bed with them after a bad dream. Or the one who desperately looked to be held at any given moment. Or the boy who gave out kisses like they were candy at any moment he could. He had grown long and spunky. A sideways grin always on his angular face. He was quick and smart and just a little mean when he wanted to be. He seemed to be changing and growing up everyday. A far cry from the little squished pink face that had come into the world kicking and screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eli moved to make his way down the hall and into his bedroom without another word to Paul, who piped up, “Hey, E, just hang on a second.” He looked more like Emma everyday. Sharp and warm. Angular. Those warm chocolate eyes Paul never grew tired of. He wondered in that moment how his own father could have ever felt anything other than pride and love for his sons. Looking at Eli, he felt his heart swell with joy. Without another word, he had him pulled into his arms and tucked into his chest, wondering how people could bring another being into the world and then not love them because of something that, in the grand scheme of things, was so inconsequential. “I love you, and I’ll love you every second of every day forever no matter what.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms wound around his back, holding on tight. For a second, it felt like that little boy that would crawl up into his lap and fall asleep on a hot afternoon, but he wasn’t that boy anymore. Time continued to march on no matter how much they tried to stop it. “Even if I murdered someone?” Eli mumbled into his chest, effectively cutting into the serious air of the conversation. Very much sounding just like Emma. Being a shit for the sake of being a shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing his eyes, Paul sighed. “Yes, Elijah, even if you murdered someone,” he admitted, and to his surprise, it wasn’t entirely a lie. “I’d be shocked and disappointed and </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>couldn’t support that, but yes, I would still love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eli didn’t pull away from him to poke fun as he normally would. There was a perfect opportunity to give Paul a hard time, yet he just stayed right there with his arms wrapped around Paul’s back. “I love you, Papi,” he said barely above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s heart skipped a beat. “I love you, too, buddy.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Beer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emma and Paul get an afternoon alone.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'M SO EXCITED THAT Y'ALL ARE EXCITED TO BE BACK IN THIS UNIVERSE. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. YOUR COMMENTS BRING ME SUCH JOY AND I'M SO OVERWHELMED WITH HAPPINESS!!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is nice,” Emma commented as she tilted her bottle of beer back to take a sip. The liquid slid cool and welcome down her throat and into her stomach. Beyond the horizon across Chestnut Pond, the sun was dipping down below the trees, nothing but a burning orange saucer hanging low in the sky. Plumes of orange bled into pink and gold, reflecting off the waters of the pond. She glanced over at Paul, who was taking a swig of his own drink. A concoction of blackberries, gin, and simple syrup with a squeeze of lemon. She had whipped something up when he suggested sitting out by the water.</p><p>A hazy heat glazed the air around them. Steam rose off the cool water, giving the entire pond the appearance of a soft glow. “Mmm,” was all he hummed in response against the rim of his glass. She watched him stare out at the water, bathed in the golden light of the sunset. Almost like something she felt she saw in a dream once. Nothing really of note. It wasn’t anything crazy. More of a feeling that overcame her. Sun on her skin. Gentle and warm. The sound of peepers and crickets coming to wakefulness as the day came waning to its close. Wet condensation seeping from the cold liquid within the bottle she held. Content with the world. Hell, happy with her world. He tilted his head to the side, a slight grin on his face. “What?”</p><p>Her eyes shifted back down to the water as she shook her head. “Nothing, nerd,” she chuckled. “I just think this is nice… doing this kind of shit with you. Y’know, like just with you. No offense to our spawn or anything.”</p><p>“It gets exhausting having to deal with miniature versions of ourselves sometimes,” he added, eliciting a snort out of her. He smiled broadly at her. “It’s nice to get some peace and fucking quiet every once and a while.”</p><p>“Do you mean to tell me that <em> I </em> produced loud children?” she asked incredulously, a hand coming up and bracing itself against her chest. “The fucking audacity!”</p><p>“Listen, you’ve already committed two decades--”</p><p>“<em> Almost </em> two decades!”</p><p>He pursed his lips, sucking his cheeks in to keep himself from barking out a laugh. “You know what? I’m going to call Gary. I think it’s really time we get those divorce papers drawn up,” he shot back.</p><p>“Oh, shut the fuck up. Who’s going to make you your fruity little cocktails if you break up with me?” she snorted before swallowing another mouthful of beer. “Besides, I think part of the reason they let Jasper stay here so much is <em> because </em> we give off the illusion of a fully functional family. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s why Gary’s down with it. Shit’s fucked up over there.”</p><p>“Man, I can’t wait to see the <em> Maury </em> kind of fight that’ll go on one day when we inevitably have to all have dinner together?” he wondered.</p><p>Her eyes narrowed while repositioning herself in her adirondack chair, swinging her legs over one of the arms so she could face him. “What're you getting at, Matthews?” she muttered. “Are you saying I’m going to fight Gary fucking Goldstein? The man who would throw himself in front of a Mercedes and claim to have been badly injured just to make some extra cash? I would not lay a finger on that man because we can’t fucking afford it.”</p><p>An eye roll came her way in response. “Em, you know what I’m talking about,” he insisted, sipping his drink.</p><p>“Oh, I won’t touch <em> her </em> either.” A certain level of venom seeped through her words at the thought of the young boy’s mother. “Her fucking baby daddy brought her doctor ex-husband to the cleaners, too, when <em> she </em> was the one cheating on <em> him. </em> Paul, I might have been able to do it in high school, but I’m pretty sure I’d get my ass sued off and we’d be broke as a bunch of fucking jokes after.”</p><p>“Not if I divorce you first. Then you’re on your own, dude.”</p><p>“Gross, did you just call me dude?”</p><p>“Maybe I did. What’re you going to do about it? Divorce me, dude?”</p><p>Reaching out with her foot, she made a move like she wanted to kick him lightly even though her legs were much too short to reach him. He raised his brows, pursing his lips to keep from laughing at her. “Don’t you fucking dare,” she warned despite the smile on her own face. It had been years upon years of short and tall jokes. Simple little jabs that didn’t mean anything, but still kept them laughing.</p><p>Instead of cracking a verbal joke, he stood from his chair and took a step closer to her, so she could reach. A more physical version of the same sort of verbal joke she had been anticipated. She wound her leg up and gave his ass a firm kick, which sent him recoiling. “Ow,” he groaned, clearly a little more dramatic than was really necessary. “I’m telling Gary to put this in the papers. Mark my words.”</p><p>“Oh, shut the fuck up. That didn’t even hurt.”</p><p>“It absolutely <em> did </em> hurt.”</p><p>“Be quiet, you enormous baby. You’ll be fine. You’ve got plenty of padding.” He pouted at her, hands perched on his hips. “What in the sweet fuck is that look for?”</p><p>“You’ve got to kiss it and make it better then,” he stated simply. In return, he received a face twisted up in disgust. He rolled his eyes. “Come on, get kissing.”</p><p>“You want me to <em> literally </em> kiss your ass.”</p><p>“Like you haven’t ever done that.”</p><p>“I think this is a great opportunity for that thing the therapist talked about… oh yep, fucking compromise.”</p><p>“I’m listening.”</p><p>She waved him down to her. “Get on in here then, dumbass,” she sighed. When he did lower himself to the ground, she took just a quick second to look at his eyes. Wide and blue. Calm. Home. They were the same eyes that would get so anxious any time he walked into Beanies, now content to be aligned with her own. “Hey.” Her voice lowered. Softer than she had just been jabbing him with. His lips quirked up into a smile as he leaned in toward her, eyes sliding shut. She glanced down his face. Over the long slope of his nose. Onto the stupid pillow lips. His face was just a breath away from her own, and the laughter was bubbling in her gut. Rather than the kiss he was anticipating, she let a loud, deep burp erupt from her throat. </p><p>Startled by the burp directly in his face, he fell flat on his butt from the crouching position he had been in. Through the laughs that were now leaving her heartily, she watched him fall into the dirt, but he didn’t leave it at that. The beer in her hand got knocked down and into his lap. An unfortunate puddle of lager spread across the front of his jeans, sending her into a heavier bout of hysterics. “What the <em> fuck? </em> ” he groaned as he scooped up the bottle and threw it down onto the ground. “Emma, what… Jesus, that was so fucking gross.” He gestured to the beer on his pants. “ <em> This </em> is gross!”</p><p>“Your face is gross!”</p><p>“God, I hate you. You know that?”</p><p>Some days she still had moments where it was a struggle to remember anything without him. In reality, most of her life had been spent without him. Most of it was spent alone. As the laughter faded on her tongue, her eyes fell on him. Just some big stupid dork with beer in his lap. Her big stupid dork with beer in his lap. It was a silly scene before her, yet her heart felt like it was so full of warmth. Years ago, she would have either thought the summer heat was affecting her in a weird way or her heart might be failing on her. But as she had learned, she was pretty sure she just liked the nerd.</p><p>“Here,” she replied, pulling him to her with her hand holding onto his chin. The kiss wasn’t anything crazy. Nothing that would have been featured in some great love story or romance film. It was normal. Something that occurred every single day. That had become a well enjoyed part of a routine. That felt familiar and safe. He backed away from her just slightly to look at her with that goofy grin she recalled only getting when he was drunk in the very beginning. “You’re alright, kid.” Her hand fell from his chin to rest on his chest. Rings shined in the golden glow of dusk. A physical reminder of a commitment she had never intended on making, but had never been upset that she did. “Also that was pretty fucking funny, and you know it.”</p><p>He ducked his head down to break his eyes away from her, and she was fairly certain there was a bashful grin on his face even though he was trying to hide it. “You just can’t give me a break, can you?” he grumbled toward his wet lap.</p><p>“Nah, where would the fun in that be?” she answered before leaning forward and tipping his chin up again. Their lips met again. This time a little more forceful. Someone watching on might think this was it. The one moment of passion in an otherwise passionless existence. That one movie moment that hit once in a blue moon. Yet the feeling was the same. Like a tidal wave crashing in her chest. Everything with him still gave off the same feeling in her gut as coming down after a laughing fit. After listening to an old favorite song. Full and joyful. She knocked her forehead against his. “I think we better get you out of those pants soon.”</p><p>His lips brushed against hers. “Mm, I think I could use some help with that,” he hummed, a hand reaching up to tangle his fingers in her hair. Another kiss found itself between them. There was something about him that felt timeless. Like this had been happening in each and every life they already existed in. She wasn’t one to believe in reincarnation or soulmates. She never had. Even when Jane had gone on all the time about finding her soulmate. About being with the love of her life forever. About horoscopes and signs in the stars. All that shit she read in a magazine somewhere. But his lips tasted just like those stars her late sister so desperately looked to with hope for her future.</p><p>She smiled against his mouth. “What? Are your hands not working today?” she teased. “You need <em> me </em>to help you take them off? Do I have to do fucking everything around here?”</p><p>Eyes shot open, and he blinked at her. After all the time they spent together, she still threw him off his game. “Um… yes?” he replied, unsure of how to respond. “Yeah… yes. They… don’t work anymore?”</p><p>“Don’t worry. Mine work just fine,” she purred with another light touch of their lips. “And I think they could do a little more than--”</p><p>“Ugh, why do you guys do this?” They both looked up to find Eli standing behind where they were sitting, arms crossed in front of his chest. Just beyond him, Dani was walking up to join him with her palms pressed against her eyelids as if she were trying to erase an image from her mind. Their day with Alice and Deb had clearly come to a close, and upon arriving back home to not find their parents, they clearly had wandered into the backyard. “This is the <em> outdoors </em> . Our <em> neighbors </em> could totally see you guys.” He gestured across the pond, where another home backed out to face the water. “So nasty.”</p><p>“Listen, man,” Emma snapped, finger jabbing out at him. “Get off my back. I was just trying to make Dad feel better.”</p><p>“<em> Mom, </em> ” Dani groaned as she appeared beside Eli. “That makes it so much <em> worse. </em>”</p><p>“Be nice. I just kicked dad’s ass so hard he peed his pants.”</p><p>Paul’s face flushed pink. “I absolutely did not pee my pants.”</p><p>Eli arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like something someone who just peed their pants would say,” he commented. “It’s okay, Dad. Sometimes that happens when you get old. We’ll all still love you.”</p><p>“For god’s sake, I <em> didn’t </em> pee myself!”</p><p>“If you didn’t pee, why are your pants wet?” Dani questioned with one hand jutted out to point toward his pants.</p><p>Paul looked to Emma with eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar. A smirk was dancing along her own lips. “I can’t fucking believe you,” he muttered barely above a whisper. “You’re the worst.” She tossed her head back, laughing once again. A snicker came behind them, Eli joining in on the fun she was poking at Paul. Here she was with something she never thought she would have had. The future she never anticipated happening. A family. She had her own family after spending a lifetime feeling like she had been ostracized from the one she had been given. The same one she had felt suffocated by. Like they had been trying to snuff her out before she even had the chance to get away. Yet there she was. Laughing with her own family. Happy in the life she had been fortunate enough to have had a hand in creating. Making fun of her husband, who very much did not pee his pants. “You’re all a bunch of jerks.”</p><p>She grabbed his chin between her forefinger and thumb once again, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, but we’re <em> your </em>jerks, bub, so you’ve got to fucking deal with it,” she chirped. A comment that got her no response aside from a heavy sigh that morphed into his own round of laughter, shaking his head. A laugh that definitely translated into something along the lines of how she felt. Complete and like he had won some sort of universal lottery even if his lap was covered in beer. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Derogatory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emma works from home and expects Paul will probably be home late.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay friends. Last week was crazy, and this past weekend I was out visiting some of my partner's family. I will respond to your lovely wonderful comments in the morning. You have all been so fantastic and I appreciate you so much. I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE ENJOYING AND I AM FILLED WITH HAPPIES.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, Mom,” Eli called from the front door he and Jasper had just walked through. “Ms. Monroe said she wants to talk to you.”</p><p>With a small groan, Emma tossed her head back, still sitting at the island with her laptop open in front of her. She glanced at the time. <em> 5:17 </em>. Past her normal check out time. If Paul got out on time, which he likely didn’t, he would be home soon, which he probably wouldn’t. At the opposite end of the island, Dani sat with her legs pulled up underneath her, head buried in a book. She had barely moved all day save for getting up to go to the bathroom and pick at her meals. It had been nice to have the constant quiet company all day while she worked. There wasn’t conversation that needed to be had constantly. The comfortable silence with the occasional scraping of a page turning against Dani’s sweatshirt.</p><p>Most of her life, Emma couldn’t live with silence. The quiet moments were dangerous. They left her susceptible to thinking. Reminiscing about a melancholic childhood and wasted youth. Getting stuck in a period of stillness used to make her squirm. It had always been easier to just muscle through it with mindless chatter. Talking about anything and everything. Not having to think about everything she tried so desperately to push out of her mind. But sitting there with Dani all day reminded her a little bit of how her thoughts on the quiet moments in life began to change. Sitting on a Sunday morning in Paul’s old house with him reading a book on the end of the couch while she scrolled through her phone with her feet in his lap. Dark nights laying in bed with absent-minded touches, both clearly still awake. Something wonderful had bloomed in the silence over the years. The simple company had become soothing. </p><p>“Dan, if I end up in jail, tell Dad he’s got to bail me out,” she grumbled as she pushed off of her stool. When she looked over to Dani, a set of wide blue eyes stared back at her. The same eyes she never seemed to be able to get enough of. “You know what? On second thought, call Hammy, and don’t tell your father. He’s not really down with the whole cold blooded murder thing.”</p><p>As she entered the foyer, she heard a stool drag against the tiled floor followed by the pattering of bare feet. “Mom!” Dani called after her. “Mom, you can’t <em> kill </em> Ms. Monroe.” At its surface, it was a very mature albeit scared response. “Daddy’ll burn down the house because he forgot about the mac and cheese he was cooking because he got distracted by talking on the phone with Uncle Bill!” And there it was. The real motive.</p><p>“Mrs. Matthews, please don’t kill my mom,” Jasper quietly requested from the space he occupied beside the door. The boy was dwarfed next to Eli’s long and lanky frame even if he wasn’t short at all really. If anything, he was average in size next to Eli’s massive height. A few inches taller than she was with broad strong-looking shoulders and a squared jaw. If it wasn’t for the quiet voice, the thick-rimmed glasses, and the moon-sized eyeballs, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had actually been one of Gerald Monroe’s children. Strapping, moderately tall Gerald Monroe. But somewhere in the divorce, it had come out that one of the children wasn’t his, and then suddenly the poor teenage boy before her was having to learn to write a new last name and call good old Uncle Gary “dad”. Though Emma didn’t like the woman, she had to respect Linda’s ability to be enough of a conniving bitch to still take Dr. Monroe to the cleaners <em> and </em> keep his name to boot. </p><p>Emma let her eyes slide shut as she took a deep breath in. Opening them once again, she looked to Jasper with a softer disposition. It had been a strange couple of years for the kid, so joking about losing another parent probably wasn’t in his repertoire at that point. “Okay, but only because you asked nicely, kid,” she replied with a sigh, ruffling the neatly trimmed mop of blonde hair atop his head. “But if you all want to send a little prayer out for my blood pressure, I’d rather not stroke out while I’m out there talking to Linda.”</p><p>“What kind of prayer are we supposed to do?” Eli questioned, eyebrow arched. He already was not so amused by her antics. The serious Paul demeanor came out when he got wound up over something. Her heart dropped just slightly at the sheer concern as to what had him uptight. “We don’t do any of the… I don’t know. We don’t do the whole <em> religion </em> thing.”</p><p>“I don’t really care, E,” she sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face that then landed on the doorknob. “Anything works. I’m not picky. You want to rattle off a hymn about Jesus or some ‘baruch atah adonai’ shit for the Jewish side of the family, be my fucking guest. Hell, if you want to ask Thor the god of fucking thunder to send me some strength, I will take what I can get at this point.”</p><p>“God, Mom, just go talk to the fucking lady for fuck’s sake.”</p><p>“Hey, watch your fucking language!”</p><p>“Mom!”</p><p>“Fine, I’m going, but I don’t like it,” she grumbled as she pulled the door open before another round of shenanigans could take place. </p><p>A blast of thick humid air hit her from outside. Just one step onto the porch and the heat alone was enough to pull her back inside. Let alone, the neat high ponytail and comically oversized sunglasses in a slouchy white t-shirt and raggedy jean shorts that probably cost more than her last grocery store trip. Linda stood with her phone in front of her, lazily scrolling through it with a clean coral manicure. A large gold watch glimmered in the sunshine. The cream colored Audi behind her still hummed quietly. Its tinted windows were rolled up, and Emma couldn’t help but wonder if the trio of other bored children were piled in the back seat. “Hello, Emma,” Linda greeted without immediately looking up from her phone. When she did raise her head, one microbladed brow raised from behind the glasses. “You look… comfortable.”</p><p>Glancing down at her paint-covered shorts and one of Paul’s worn out University of Washington shirts, Emma shrugged. “Well, I worked from home today, and I’ve given up on trying to impress my children with my killer fashion skills, so this is the look for today,” she offered in response before she gestured to the pile of dark hair on top of her head. “And it’s clearly hair washing day, but again, working from home so…”</p><p>“I <em> completely </em> understand,” Linda replied, voice dripping with a layer of saccharine condescension. She waved a hand dismissively at Emma. “Today was a lazy one for me too. It’s just been a whole whirlwind of travel planning. Crossing all those t’s and dotting all those i’s before we head off to Tuscany and Barcelona.” There was a hint of an overexaggerated accent at the name of the Spanish city that tested Emma’s ability to keep some level of poker face. “Then obviously the preparation for Cape Town and Yarra Valley… you understand, right, Em?”</p><p>A hand rested on Emma’s shoulder that she immediately wanted to shrug off of her. Instead, for the sake of the children she knew were watching from behind the blinds, she forced out a smile. “I actually don’t, but I’m… um, glad to hear the wine thing is really taking off for you.” A lie. “Nice to see things working out for you.” Also a lie. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the facade. Small talk wasn’t something she anticipated. “So Eli said you wanted to talk with me.” The smile remained, but the smile softened slightly in the hope that Linda would think it was genuine. “It’s a little hot out here, and I figured neither of us really want to melt.” Finally, a truth left her mouth. </p><p>Linda lifted the sunglasses off of her face and rested them on top of her head. “Yes, absolutely, although I’ll tell you, this sun is nothing compared to the beaches in Barbados.” Emma bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from barking out a laugh. “But I did want to talk about Jasper before I left.”</p><p>“Yeah, I promise we won’t give him cheese this time around. I didn’t realize it had such an effect on…”</p><p>“<em> Oh, </em> it does terrible things for his mood. I swear every damn time that boy has dairy he broods for a week.” Or it could have been the fact that he was a teenager. “Snippy and shitty and won’t bother to go to his horseback riding lessons.”</p><p>“What an absolute travesty,” Emma shot back without being able to throw her filter up. Without letting Linda wriggle her way back in with a biting comeback, she continued. “But yes, absolutely there will be <em> no </em> dairy for him here.” The plan was to make monstrous grilled cheeses with the kids and a bunch of fancy cheeses and toppings. Considering that the sensitivity Linda had spoken about was a bunch of mumbo jumbo her chiropractor had told her, Emma felt no need to restrict the poor kid’s diet. What Linda didn’t know wouldn’t make her last out at Jasper. “But I’m assuming that isn’t what you wanted to talk about.”</p><p>“No, it’s far more serious than that,” Linda explained, lowering her voice like she was about to tell Emma some deep dark serious. “I’m worried about how Jasper’s been acting lately.”</p><p>Emma arched a brow, interest now piqued. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“He’s been acting very… strange as of late. Even without the dairy in his diet and taking out all the processed fats, his mood has been… off.” It was no wonder Jasper loved staying with them. The kid just wanted some fucking Doritos and pizza, as any fourteen year old would. “And… I’m fairly certain I heard him talking in a very concerning way with Elijah.”</p><p>The sinking feeling in Emma’s gut began again. In the back of her mind, she could picture Eli just behind the blinds with his thumb nail digging into the side of his hand. “What do you mean <em> concerning </em>?” Jasper’s voice begging Paul and her to not tell Linda about anything that went on in the house that was remotely something that belonged in a teen coming of age romance film was loud in her ear. God, she wished Paul for once in his fucking life would leave work at a normal time.</p><p>“Well… why don’t you tell me, Emma?” Linda retorted, eyes going from a caricature of friendliness to empty in a matter of seconds. She knew. Well, she knew <em> something </em>. What that was exactly, Emma couldn’t be sure. “I believe you would fall into the realm of…” Her voice trailed off as she pulled up her phone again to pull up something to read over quickly. “‘Jas, it’s okay. My mom and dad are okay with it. I love you.’ I can only assume that you would fall under the jurisdiction of ‘my mom and dad’ if I’m not mistaken.”</p><p>Sucking in her cheeks, Emma tried to digest the information that was just handed to her on the grimiest silver platter she could imagine. “Linda, you’re reading his text messages?” was the first thought that actually came out. “Come on, he’s fourteen. You have to start giving him some space.”</p><p>“Well, clearly, I have good reason to not trust him.”</p><p>“They’re not hurting anyone,” Emma insisted, shoulders sagging. She looked back up at the house, hoping to god that the kids had wandered back into the kitchen, but she was well aware they were standing right at the window with it potentially cracked open to eavesdrop on the conversation. “Jasper is a really great kid, Linda.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m aware. He’s one of mine,” Linda scoffed matter of factly. “I just think that your fairy of a son is having a bad influence on him.”</p><p>Emma squeezed her hand into a fist at her side, fully ready to pull back and deck Linda right across her very silicon filled face. Years earlier, she might have done it without a second thought. Definitely back in high school. But the thought of the little eyes on her made her think otherwise. Two sets in particular. <em> I love you </em>. Her nails dug into the soft skin of her palm. The decision to punch Linda or leave her go left her teetering on a tightrope above a lake of lava. She wanted so badly to lay one out hard across Linda’s teeth and watch a few of her veneers fly in scattered directions. Hear the crunch of her new nose. Transform it back into the old one. </p><p>Then the gravel of the driveway crunched beneath the slow moving wheels of a car.</p><p>“Oh thank fucking god.” Paul slowly pulled himself out of his car, eyes locked with hers. His tie was hanging loosely around his neck as if he had pulled the neat knot free as he drove out of the CCRP parking lot, Morrissey blasting through his car speakers. A black suit jacket was thrown over one arm while he grabbed a black messenger bag with the other. “Paul, I need you to get your ass over here before I sock this bitch so hard I knock her into the next fucking century.” He was far enough away that she couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but she was fairly certain it was something along the lines of ‘Oh, Jesus Christ’. He slammed the driver side door shut behind him and approached the women. “Listen, she called Eli--”</p><p>“I’m going to be honest with you, Linda,” he began as he reached the bottom step of the front porch. “I don’t know what you called my son exactly, and I’m sure it’s only half of what you called your own. But frankly, I’ve had a terrible fucking day and don’t have the energy to break up a fight here.” His eyes fell on Linda, heavy and blue and exhausted. “They’re gay, and out of all the things people can be in the world, I don’t get why that’s such a terrible thing.” His gaze moved from Linda to the ground briefly. Reaching into his pocket, he pressed down on the remote to lock his car. When he looked back up, his eyes were no longer his, but something more akin to how Emma remembered his mother looking at her. “Now, I expect I’m not going to hear you say anything about <em> my </em> son or your own ever.” Linda’s mouth opened to responde, but he continued. “And I don’t see why he wouldn’t be allowed to spend time here anymore because it’d be a real shame if your business partners found out that you were involved in some idiotic homophobic bullshit involving your own kid.”</p><p>Both Emma and Linda just stared at him, blinking. A silence settled between the three. Linda’s car continued to hum quietly, air conditioning working away to keep the inhabitants inside cool. “Okay,” he sighed, looking to Emma this time. “I’m going to go inside and have a drink.” He waved the hand that held his jacket. “It was nice to see you, Linda. Safe travels. We’ll see you in a few weeks.”</p><p>“Yeah, I hope you--”</p><p>The hand reached out and grabbed her elbow. “Have a nice trip,” he finished for her, dragging her back up the stairs before she could let her filter completely crumble. Begrudgingly, she followed him up the stairs and to the front door all while taking moments to glare back at Linda, who was rounding the corner back into the driver’s seat of the Audi. The phone was already pressed back up against her ear. </p><p>Not another word was spoken until they stepped through the front door. The immediate greeting was that of a wave of cool air, which they both accepted gladly. She took note of the fact that all three children had disappeared from the foyer before she looked up at him. “How did you know what Linda had said?” she asked as he kicked off his shoes. They fell into the messy pile beside the door, so he couldn’t help but bend down to move them neatly beside it.</p><p>Throwing his bag and jacket over the banister, he sighed. “Eli was texting me and said you might kill Linda because she flipped out on Jasper because Linda…” He fished his phone out of his pocket to retrieve the exact message. “‘Is a fucking snooping bitch.’”</p><p>“Well, he’s not wrong. She’s been reading through his text messages,” she told him, arms crossing in front of her as the AC sent a chill through her. “She’s been reading through his messages and started fucking talking about Eli… and Paul, I wanted to fucking beat the shit out of her.”</p><p>“I’m glad you didn’t,” he stated simply, turning to face her. “Because we couldn’t afford that lawsuit, and she does that hot yoga thing… and I feel like you have to be part demon to do that. I don’t want you being dragged into the pits of hell… or prison.”</p><p>“Dani, texted you, too?”</p><p>“Yes, Emma, you <em> have </em> to stop threatening to kill everyone who mildly displeases you. You’re worrying the kids.”</p><p>“Why? They know I’d never <em> actually </em> fucking do it.”</p><p>“I don’t know… sometimes it’s hard to tell.”</p><p>“Unbelievable. You too?”</p><p>“Yes, me too.” His hands rested on her shoulders. “Now, please, I would like to sit down and drink something wildly alcoholic and talk about <em> your </em> day and then <em> maybe </em> make out with you a little bit later. Maybe. If you’d be into that.”</p><p>She pressed her lips together, wanting to scold him for not going in at Linda further, but knew he was right. It wasn’t worth it to go fully <em> Jerry Springer </em> on Linda. It wouldn’t be productive for anyone except for Linda and her wallet. That didn’t make her want to punch the woman in the face any less. “Fine,” she huffed, pushing up on her toes to brush her lips against his. “But I have some requests for later that I expect are going to fucking happen.”</p><p>A smile cracked against his lips. “I think we can work with that.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul and Emma attend a party.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I've finally settled on a little thing I'm going to do for this story. A gimick of sorts and I'm really excited about it. I hope you all enjoy.</p><p> </p><p>This is set a bit in the future, as the beginning bit implies.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>A Number of Years Ahead</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul still wasn’t one to be comfortable in a crowded room. He didn’t care for big parties or loud music. Any large gathering he had ever gone to was usually filled with thoughts about how he could get out early and go home. So many of his years were spent flowering the walls of Halloween parties or lingering by the exits of company Christmas gatherings. But when he thought about everything, it had really only been half of his life spent in the shadows. Half his life spent avoiding these big groups and loud events. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things became easier with Emma, who was a little larger than life. It didn’t matter how physically small she was. There was just something commanding about her when she entered a room. Not to mention it was difficult for him to look at anyone else once she glided into any given room at any given moment. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was a challenge to remember any time before she was there to join him in those rooms. It felt impossible to recall anything without her. To be fair, though, he didn’t really want to try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, he sat at the edge of a rustic looking table with a glass of something that tasted heavily of tequila but was orange in color to the point that he was pretty sure it wasn’t orange juice coloring it. The large room was beginning to fill in with various family members and friends. Some he recognized. Others he didn’t. He took a swig of his drink. “Hey, Drunk McDuck.” The sudden sensation of a cool palm on the back of his neck nearly made him jump out of his skin. When he saw her standing above him cackling maniacally, he wanted to grimace but couldn’t bring himself to give her anything but a slight smile back. “We’re kind of supposed to be in charge of this fucking shindig, so you sitting brooding in the corner over here isn’t a great look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned into her side, enjoying the smell of her perfume for a moment. Earthy and comforting. Bergamot with a hint of amber, finishing off with a sweet trail of vanilla. “It’s not like it was our idea,” he groaned into her side as her arm wrapped behind his head, her hand resting at his temple. “It wasn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> idea. This isn’t exactly what they talked about wanting, so how the hell did we end up footing the bill here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dear,</span>
  </em>
  <span> we love our son very much, and we’re just going to fucking deal with the party because he loves someone who desperately wants to please his dumbass motherfucking parents.” Her fingers gently grazed through his hair. The sensation combined with the alcohol and being pressed against her chest made him feel like he could fall asleep. “So just let him fucking have this okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he agreed, shifting to look up at her. Softly aging. Looking simultaneously just like the girl he pined after at the coffee shop and a completely different person. One he would not have recognized all those years ago, but at the same time, a person he knew very well. In his defense, he wouldn’t recognize himself either. Things had changed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They</span>
  </em>
  <span> had changed. They were very different from the people they were when they had met. Happier and full from a life that didn’t leave them wishing for much more than what they already had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile quirked at the corners of his lips as their eyes caught each other. Warm and cool meeting in the airspace between. Something he never seemed to get sick of. Every chance he got, he took in the sweet honey of her gaze. Like maple syrup drizzling over a warm stack of buttermilk pancakes. She arched a brow at him, smirk coming over her lips. “What?” she jabbed while she knocked her hip into his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” he insisted. His free hand wrapped around her waist, thumb running along the curve of her hip. There was a period of time where he thought he would be alone forever. A good portion of his life was spent coming to terms with the fact that it would be him in his tiny house with his cat until he died. A lonely and quiet life. And while life had certainly proven to be anything but quiet, the thought of having spent it with anyone besides the big mouth he had effectively wrapped himself around was as bad as imagining it spent by his lonesome. She had given him a chance and just continued giving after that. Gave him her love. Gave him a place to call home. Gave them both the opportunity to have a family that felt dysfunctional at times but was filled with love no less. Everything he had he owed it to her. He would have to spend the next several lifetimes to adequately pay her back. “I just love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoved him once again with her hip. “You’re gross, you big stupid nerd,” she grumbled. The smile lingering on her face didn’t waver with her words. The tips of her fingers trailed across the back of his neck. If it weren’t for the people who were beginning to filter in, he felt like he could have fallen asleep right then and there. “But really, I think Eli might kill us if we just hide in a fucking corner all night, which, honestly, sounds pretty fucking appealing after the shit show that just went down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing his eyes, he took another generous swig of his drink in an attempt to forget the events leading up to the dinner they were about to partake in. “If he doesn’t, you might end up a murderer by the end of the day tomorrow,” he retorted, eliciting a snort from her in response. “Besides, those are just their friends coming in.” It was true. A gaggle of young adults had wandered into the large room, lined with exposed brick on one wall that ended at a small bar. All different sizes and flavors of human. Eli had acquired a variety of friends that stuck to him like velcro throughout his years in school, both before and after college. He was like a pied piper of weirdos, bringing together an unlikely band of people into a fully functional little family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy was magnetic. That was what the professor always said at least. Eli’s personality was electric. There was something that just drew people in with every word that left his mouth or gaze that fell upon them. He had this way about him that allowed him to talk his way out of anything and everything. Paul had never seen someone smooth talk their way out of all kinds of situations the way this kid did. Truthfully, though, he wasn’t a kid anymore. Through the band of jolly misfits, Eli strode into the room. Broad grin on his face. Pile of neatly styled curls atop his head. An artfully trimmed short beard had been the newest addition to his face. It drew a defining line between this little boy they had raised and sent off to college and the man that was finding his way into the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, big guy?” Emma’s voice cut through his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked. “Hmm? Yeah,” he replied, craning his neck once again to look up at her. A lump had risen in his throat that he was desperately trying to force back down into his chest. “Yeah, just thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smirk on her face softened. Most things about her had, which some days he might have attributed to her getting older, but then there were times he wasn’t quite as sure. Sometimes he would think back to the beginning of things where she was so hard. Tough. Like trying to get to know a piece of sandpaper. At the bottom of it all, though, she had been scared and angry, even a little guilty. The life she had chosen wasn’t one she had always wanted. Hell, she didn’t think she would have had the option to choose this life. This wasn’t what was behind door number two for her based upon what she had been shaped to know as a child and into her twenties. Things were easier when she was detached and cool. She eventually admitted to him that falling in love terrified her. The commitment. The chance that something could go wrong. The chance he would leave in one way or another. She saw what the guilt did to Tom, whose relationship had ended with bitterness still left in her sister’s mouth and heart. It was something she didn’t want to have with Paul. She didn’t want to ever want to look back on words left unsaid, but life was unpredictable and determined to undermine her, as she had learned throughout her life. Despite everything, she stayed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just thinking?” she repeated, arching a brow. “Sounds like something that’ll make you fucking cry.” Her hand rested on his cheek. The cool metal bands on her finger felt like rain falling on a hot summer day. He hadn’t even realized his face had gotten so warm. “Listen, you get through tonight and tomorrow, and then we can sit at home and do nothing all fucking weekend, bud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds fantastic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Yes, I figured,” her words came out as more of a whisper than he anticipated her speaking. Breath tickled his face. “It’s almost like I fucking know you or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s weird. I’ve never met you before in my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right? Who the fuck invited you here?” She raised her head and the volume of her voice. “Who invited this man? I’ve never met him before in my life!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, Emma,” he snickered, pulling her closer to him by her waist. Her eyes turned down to him, mischief burning like a wildfire in chocolate pools. He intended to give her shit for being… well, a little shit, but once he had her there, the words died on his lips. He was lost in her gravity again. Floating along in an orbit he had no intention of leaving any time soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sticking her tongue out at him, she squished up her nose. “Jesus, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Paul</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Get it together. This night isn’t about us, so keep your goddamn paws to yourself.” The smirk returned to her face as she moved in closer to his ear. “Until later… maybe. I don’t know. I’m fucking tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s because you got fucking old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better watch yourself, old man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re older than me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barely, and besides, you’ve been acting like an old man ever since I met you. Mister brings his book in to read on the toilet while he’s taking a shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t try it because I’m not a big dumb dork, but you bet your ass I’ll keep knocking it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, lover boy!” Both of their heads shot up to the entrance where the grouping of friends had now dispersed to make way for other guests. A head of greying hair, big blue eyes, and a teasing grin on full lips stared back at him. “Think you can take a second out of your romcom to tell me what you’re drinking there, Paulie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s head lurched forward when a hand came in contact with it. One that was attached to a head of strawberry hair. “God dammit, Jack,” Marnie grumbled. “I thought you were taking it easy on the booze tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, I’ve got to deal with one of the other brothers and his douchebag spawn tonight.” Jack threw his hand out in Paul’s direction. “So does Paul, and he clearly has the right idea. Something fruity enough that the alcohol sneaks up on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marnie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Fine, but take it easy. Your blood pressure’s been through the roof,” she conceded while glancing back at Paul. “It’s a tequila sunrise. You can tell because it’s fucking orange as hell, and it has one of those little cherries in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jackpot!” Jack cheered with his hands raised in victorious fists, hopping toward the bar at the far end of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s attention returned to Paul, who she was unwinding herself from much to his chagrin. “So are you and your brothers going to get sloppy drunk and have like a reality show worthy drunken showdown sometime over the next twenty four hours?” she wondered, a sense of playfulness still dancing across her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so. At least I hope not… god, Jack is going to fight Dan isn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged as she allowed her hand to trail from his neck over his shoulder. “Only time will tell, but I’ll be waiting in the wings with my goddamn popcorn,” she said while plastering a smile on her face and waving at someone who just walked in. He turned his focus to the door to find Bill wandering in and joined her in waving. “Alright, nerd, let’s do it. It’s showtime.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Letter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul goes to work. Emma calls him with some semi-not great news.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, this was going to be a short one, but then it somehow ended up being 4k words. I don't know how that happened.</p><p>Oh well! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paul had worked for the same company for most of his adult life. He held down the same position for a number of years and was happy with that. Maybe not happy, but he definitely had become complacent. He worked at the same desk with the same people every single day, and that was fine. That is, until the merger. When Dani was just starting school, CCRP Technical was headed straight for a merger with a larger entity, though most of the time he felt that merger wasn’t the best word for it. The company was being acquired by the larger group, which left all of them ill at ease about their occupational security. </p><p>Paratechnical Inc. had swooped in a few years back to purchase CCRP, which caused a fair bit of stir in the analytical department in particular. An acquisition likely meant there would be layoffs. In all fairness, the only fuss it really caused was for Paul and Melissa who really weren’t looking to lose their jobs. Melissa and her wife had been planning for months to finally purchase a house. Melissa’s dream house, to be specific, and they were relying on both incomes to make it happen. Paul,  on the other hand, was knee deep in the realization that one child was expensive, but two, on top of the various other bills, required both of Emma’s and his salaries. When Mr. Davidson announced he was resigning very suddenly, the feeling of dread became even more apparent. </p><p>It wasn’t until Paratechnical’s acquisition head came through the office to sit down with the employees in the department that he felt any relief. Sitting across from Mr. Lee, whose first name Paul was pretty sure he never got, in Mr. Davidson’s old office was almost like being called down to the principal’s office without any idea what wrongdoing had occurred. He was very ready to plead his case and pull out any stop he needed to. Prior to being pulled in, he sat going through the roll of photos on his phone trying to find the most domestic adorable photo he could. The kids were pretty cute. They’d certainly win some hearts. With the photos at the ready, he almost missed when Mr. Lee asked if he would be interested in interviewing for Mr. Davidson’s old position. <em> “I… uh… me?” </em> It wasn’t the most eloquent response, but it was genuine in its disbelief.</p><p>He did, in fact, interview for the job along with Ted. Two of the more senior members of the team with any sort of leadership capacity. He almost felt guilty when he told Bill he had gotten the job the other wasn’t even considered for despite being with the company longer. That guilt lingered when Bill was nothing but supportive and ultimately excited. There was no lingering sense of jealousy, yet Paul felt he owed something to his friend for even getting him the job to begin with. Ted, conversely, was just jealous that Paul was going to get his own office, which was his whole reason for interviewing to begin with. <em> “Got to get a little private time in the afternoon, right, my man? I mean, come on. I bet the senior analyst manager has some hanky shit he can get into after five o’clock, am I right? Paul? Come on. Eh? Ehhhhh?” </em></p><p>So he did get the title. And the office. And the pay raise. <em> And </em> he managed to keep things afloat without having to let any of the direct team go, though the fight to keep both Melissa as the executive assistant and Charlotte as the office admin was a bit of a stretch. “Isn’t it weird, Paul?” Melissa mused as she sat up against his desk. She faced the window that looked out over downtown Hatchetfield. Sometimes he glanced out to the street with the fleeting thought of going over to Beanies if he had a spare moment. He looked up at her from his computer, recalling the first day she had walked in. Bright eyed through thick-framed glasses, looking a little terrified of Ted, which was fair. He swore they had hired a high school student until she revealed she was just a few years younger than he was and making her way through community college much less. To be fair, past her first few weeks where she had seemed interested in getting to know people, he didn’t think about her much at all until that Halloween party he went to at her place after meeting Emma. Eventually, there was a lot of talk about how ‘Aunt Melissa is the best’ and ‘why aren’t you as cool as Auntie Mel, Dad?’ that ruminated around his house.</p><p>“Isn’t what weird?” he questioned, pulling his glasses off and pressing his fingers into the corners of his closed eyes. It was quarter end, and Ted couldn’t seem to get his head out of his ass with the reports he had promised to get out by five. </p><p>“How things ended up playing out,” she answered as she twisted the golden band around her finger. “I mean, fuck, who’d have thought <em> you’d </em> be the boss some day?”</p><p>“Ouch,” he replied, dropping a hand to slap dramatically against his chest. A smile actually bristled its way across his face. “I’m wounded, Mel.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes, pushing off of his desk toward the large window. As she stood against the grey and rainy backdrop, she looked like a neon sign in a bright yellow shirt atop her black skirt. A far cry from the various plaid blazers she wore when she first started. She tapped her index finger against the window. He bit down on his cheek to stop himself from telling her she was going to leave smudges on the window. Old habits had the tendency to die hard. Looking back over her shoulder, she gave him a wry smile. “Come on, dude. You? Would you have thought you would have been running this floor however many years ago?” she shot back. A beat of silence passed between them, and when he opened his mouth to respond, she continued, “Don’t say yes because I’ll say you’re a fucking liar.”</p><p>In his defense, he was going to agree with her. Growing up, he had been nothing but beta, beta, beta Paul. Trying his best to shrink away from anything that required decisions on his part. Anything that would have forced him to put his foot down. Not necessarily in the vein of saying no because he had no problem saying no. He had a problem sticking up for his choices, whether they were for the greater good or otherwise. “Not that you’re not doing a good job,” she dialed back, turning to face him again. “Because you are. I feel like… I actually get to do shit besides put Carol through to Mr. Davidson, and I’m grateful as <em> fuck </em> we never have to go to Ohio again. I just didn’t peg you for it.”</p><p>He shrugged, a trace of a smug grin poising itself on his face. “Listen, I’m not <em> always </em> that predictable,” he insisted with a chuckle lacing his tone.</p><p>“Oh yeah, I know. Like with the big dick and the surprising sexual prowess.” Staring at her, his mouth snapped shut and eyes blinked wildly. Hands perched at her hips and a smirk on her lips, she deadpanned his way, “Come on, my guy. Emma is my best friend, and I heard a fuckton about black coffee Paul before I knew you were black coffee Paul. Hidgens was always late for class because some end of the world scenario or some shit was always about to happen. You really thought Ted came up with big dig Paul by himself? Don’t give that moron so much credit.”</p><p>“Listen, fucko, I’m still here,” Ted called from out on the office floor. </p><p>“Was anyone talking to you?”</p><p>“No, but you were talking <em> about </em> me.”</p><p>“There’s a difference. I don’t want your input on this one.”</p><p>Paul’s cell phone sat face down on his desk, buzzing periodically. He glanced between Melissa and the door before picking it up. A number of messages labeled <em> that lady who sleeps in ur bed </em> had come through while he and Melissa had been talking. The first message did not give him any confidence.</p><p>
  <em> don’t freak out. </em>
</p><p>There was a period and everything. It could only go downhill from there.</p><p>
  <em> everyone is fine </em>
</p><p>A more promising statement, but it didn’t make him less anxious about whatever was to follow, which was a picture. At first, he couldn’t tell what exactly he was looking at. Then all at once, his pounding heart turned to nervous frustration. “What… the <em> fuck </em>,” he muttered under his breath.</p><p>“What?” Melissa replied curiously, peering over his shoulder. “What <em> is </em>that?”</p><p>“<em> That </em>,” he began, tapping on the picture and zooming in. A cylinder was embedded into a flat white surface. Cracks and dust surrounded the silver bottom of the mystery item. “Is a thermos in my fucking kitchen ceiling.”</p><p>“Well, how the hell did it get there?” she questioned as she took the phone from his hand to observe the photo a little better.</p><p>“I have <em> no </em> fucking clue,” he sighed, leaning back with his hands running through his hair. “My children are a nightmare.”</p><p>“Ugh, gross.” Ted had materialized in the door with his jacket over his arm. If anything, Ted looked almost exactly the same as he had ten and even fifteen years earlier, save for the bits of grey starting to appear just in his mustache. Same terrible mustard colored, ill-fitting clothing. “Stop talking about your <em> life </em> on company time, Paul.” Ted was mildly bitter from time to time because of the on again off again relationship he had with Charlotte that now spanned decades. No matter how hard he tried to convince her that he would try to mend his sleazeball ways for her, she didn’t concede. “I’m going to Mercer’s, so I can drink myself stupid and then cry myself to fucking sleep tonight.” He had attempted therapy briefly to prove to Charlotte he had changed. This was one of his many attempts to be ‘emotionally open’ with his friends. "Either of you want to come?"</p><p>Paul’s face pinched as he shook his head. “I’m good,” he answered.</p><p>“It’ll be a hard pass from me, Ted.”</p><p>“Well, your loss. Go home to your wives and do… what the fuck ever.” Heavy footfalls stomped out toward the exit, stopping where Paul assumed was just in front of the elevator. A heavy sigh floated through the silent office. No phones ringing. No keyboards tapping. No pens clicking. The silence only a Friday night could bring. “I emailed you the stupid goddamn reports.”</p><p>Having forgotten the reports for a moment in the agitation over the kitchen ceiling, his eyebrows shot up. “Oh!” he gasped. “Thanks, Ted. I appreciate--”</p><p>“Yeah, what the fuck ever. I’m coming over and drinking your beer tomorrow night, boss man.” There was a ding and then a metallic sliding of doors coming to a close. Once again, silence wrapped around them. Normally at quarter’s end, he and Melissa would end up staying late a number of nights in a row, sitting in the conference room with papers all over the place and takeout half eaten surrounding them as they attempted to get everything together at the last minute. Usually, she would throw on some kind of quiet indie rock to serve as background music because the office at night creeped her out, but for whatever reason, everyone had all of their work in mostly on time, save for Ted, who never did anything on time. There was no takeout or music or papers everywhere. </p><p>“Huh,” he mumbled, tapping into his Outlook inbox to find that Ted had actually sent him the reports he was looking for. Fully completed and everything. Odd. “Weird.”</p><p>Melissa leaned over and picked up the picture frame on his desk. When he looked back at her, she had a fond yet wistful smile on her face. “I like this one.” It was from Christmas the year before. Taken in the living room. Emma had gotten him another pair of silly pajama pants that had tiny menorahs all over them because it had been the first day of Hanukkah as well. They were piled onto the couch. She leaned against him, eyes squeezed shut mid-laugh. His arm was wrapped around her chest, and with an open-mouthed smile plastered across his face, he stared back at Eli, who was looking over them with a wicked grin and a squared jaw. Dani sat on his other side with her legs curled up beneath her. Big blue eyes stared up at her brother and a sideways grin--Emma’s, he would often admit--shot back at him as she responded quickly to whatever jab he had pulled. Her small hand wrapped around his own, making him feel like some sort of gentle giant. It was something she had done so often as a little girl. Just reaching out and grabbing onto his hand. Something that had faded in the last year. A melancholic feel came over his heart.</p><p>“Listen, Paul,” Melissa’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Could you do something really important for me?”</p><p>Her face had turned serious. Suddenly, the yellow bounced off of her face like a toddler looking seriously into a buttercup on a cloudy day. His brow furrowed. “Yeah, of course. What’s up, Melis?”</p><p>“I may or may not have told everyone that shit was due earlier than it was to get them out of the office.”</p><p>If his eyebrows could have knit together in further confusion, they would have. “Why would you do that?” he questioned, once again leaning back to look up at her.</p><p>“I just needed to talk to you alone… well, maybe not. I don’t know. It’s a big thing.”</p><p>“Melissa, I told you I can’t be your only phone call if you get thrown in jail for something stupid. I won’t bail you out <em> or </em> tell Emma so she’ll come bail you out.”</p><p>She snorted. “Of course not. I would always call Emma first,” she responded as if this was common sense. “No… um, Ellie and I were thinking about adopting.”</p><p>“You already have two dogs and a chinchilla.”</p><p>“No, dumbass, like human children.” His eyebrows shot up and mouth formed into an ‘O’. “Yeah, no shit.” She closed her eyes while taking a deep breath in. Hands came out in front of her as if she were stabilizing herself. “I’m sorry. I’m just fucking nervous… I wanted to know if you would be a personal reference for me.”</p><p>A pang came into his chest. One of pride and a hint of something else. Something that didn’t ring in often with Melissa. Usually because she was giving him shit with Emma or Ted. “Oh,” he breathed, trying to put a finger on what he was feeling. “I didn’t know you guys had wanted to do that.”</p><p>Her eyes fell to the floor with a sad sigh. She placed the frame back onto his desk beside his computer monitor. “It’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable. I shouldn’t… you’re just a good person, Paul, and we’ve worked together so long,” she yammered on, wringing her hands at her middle. “And you’re… you’re a good friend and dad. I just thought… you wouldn’t have to do that much. Maybe a letter if you’d be okay with that. I don’t know. If you wouldn’t want to--”</p><p>Touched. That was the feeling. He was touched that she would reach out to him like this. Not Emma, her best friend. Not Bill, the resident dad. Him. Plain white bread Paul, as she referred to him during their late night sessions in front of highlighted spreadsheets in the office, mouth half full of lo mein. “No, Mel, I would be happy to,” he finally told her, a little at a loss for words. “I’d… it’d be an honor.”</p><p>Her face lit up. “Really?”</p><p>The smile touched his lips again. “Of course,” he answered, clicking on the ‘shutdown’ button on the start menu of his computer. He stood, throwing his messenger bag with his laptop and various manila folders over his shoulder and suit jacket over the opposite arm. Before he could get another word in, she had thrown herself against his chest, arms wrapping around his back. The last time he had gotten such a reception from her was at her engagement party when she was completely drunk, blathering on about how his advice on proposing was the best she could have ever gotten. Taken aback, his hands raised on either side of her shoulders like he was afraid to touch her. </p><p>“Thanks, Paul,” her response came out as a whisper. A quiet sort of nature he never got from her. Not the reverse Sour Patch Kid personality he normally got from her. Sweet then sour. She pulled back from him and ran a hand under her eyes. “Really. Thank you.” Her green eyes were slick with tears that she wouldn’t allow to shed. It was an unprecedented raw moment he wasn’t often privy to from her.</p><p>“Hey.” His hand landed on her shoulder, the other moving to unlock his phone that had just buzzed again. “It’s not like you’re asking me to join the company softball league.” He glanced down at the screen, eyes glossing over the new message that had just come through. Another sigh left him as he locked the screen and slid his phone into his pocket. He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath in. “They tried to carbonate lemonade with dry ice… in a thermos… in the kitchen.”</p><p>Levity returned to her features, an eyebrow arching. “Where would they have gotten dry ice?” she wondered as they walked out of his office and out toward the elevator.</p><p>He threw his hands up in the air, clearly flabbergasted. “I don’t know. My… professor-in-law probably,” he groaned, pressing the down arrow for the elevator. “‘You <em> must </em> let the children experiment, Paul! They are our <em> future!’ </em>”</p><p>“That was an impressive Hidgens,” she remarked. “And I know. I spent three semesters imitating him.”</p><p>The elevator came to a thudding halt on their floor and slid open with a ding. “Well, I’ve got like… almost a couple decades on you,” he grumbled while stepping through the doorway. His thumb pressed into the ‘GL’ button to take them down to the ground floor. “I’ve had practice, and I mean, it’s not even that I don’t like him. I do. He loves Emma and the kids and--”</p><p>“Just try not having parents. That’s what Ellie and I do.”</p><p>“Listen, I <em> try </em> . I haven’t seen my parents in fifteen years, which has been <em> phenomenal </em>, but Emma--”</p><p>“She needs it,” she remarked, taking the words right out of his mouth. “Even if he’s annoying and gives your children dry ice.”</p><p>“So irresponsible! Oh my <em> god! </em> ” They stepped into the lobby. She shook her head with a laugh, looking as though she were about to say something more to him when his phone began buzzing incessantly in his pocket. When he peered at the screen after pulling it out of his pocket, <em> that lady who sleeps in ur bed </em> was calling. “Sorry.” He looked at the call as it continued to ring. Distractedly, he carried on with his words, “That, um, lady who sleeps in my bed is calling.” She squinted at him, trying to figure out why he was referring to Emma that way. He looked back up at her, eyes now wide and paying her his full attention. “When did you need that letter by?”</p><p>“Oh, um.” She tucked her hair behind her ear like she was taken aback by him bringing the discussion they just had back up again. “In the next two weeks would be great.”</p><p>“Awesome. Done.” He slid his finger across the screen to answer the call. “Hey, hold on.” His focus was on her again. “I’ll get it done. I promise. Leave me… a trail of Post-Its or something. Keep me honest.”</p><p>“Sir, yes, sir,” she laughed, saluting him jokingly. “Go deal with the disaster.”</p><p>“Will do. Have a good night, Mel.” Before she could reply to him, he recalled Ted’s promise. “Also come over if you want tomorrow because I guess Ted is coming to drink all my beer.”</p><p>A small soft smile fell onto her pink lipstick clad lips. “Have a good weekend, boss man,” she chuckled with a wave as she dashed off toward the exit that led out toward the parking garage she normally parked in during the spring and summer to get a bit of a walk in before and after work.</p><p>“<em> What’s this about Douchecanoe O’Asshole coming over and drinking all our beer? </em>”</p><p>“What’s this about our children playing with dry ice while we’re not at home?”</p><p>“<em> Okay, to be fair, everyone still has all their eyeballs, eyebrows, and appendages. </em>”</p><p>“Oh, good. <em> That’s </em>what I was worried about.” He had been worried about that. “How did they--”</p><p>“<em> Bad news, though. </em>”</p><p>He pressed the unlock pad on his car keys, seeing his headlights flash and illuminate the now darkening parking garage. “Our ceiling is fucked? Yeah, I already knew that.”</p><p>“<em> Oh, no. That’s fine. Tom said he’ll come by this weekend to patch that shit up. </em>”</p><p>“Then what could the bad news be, oh lady who sleeps in my bed?” Walking over to the passenger seat, he opened the door to drop his jacket and bag. His fingers clumsily worked to loosen his tie with one hand. </p><p>“<em> It was that thermos you like. The one we used to take hiking. </em>”</p><p>Shouts pleading with her not to tell him could be heard off in the distance. He pulled his tie over his head and dropped it into the passenger seat before he closed the door. “I <em> just </em> washed that this morning,” he groaned as he walked to the driver’s side where he plopped himself into the seat. “They are <em> so </em> lucky I like them.”</p><p>“<em> I told them you’d fucking get over it. Didn’t I? </em> ” Grumbled agreements. She was quiet for a moment as the children’s voices dissipated. Upon speaking again, her tone softened. “ <em> Papi, I picked up pizza and wings for dinner. You cool with that? </em>”</p><p>“Absolutely.” He leaned his head back against the headrest. “Are they the garlic ones?”</p><p>“<em> Yep, with the mild sauce because white boy can’t handle spice. </em>”</p><p>“Have I told you lately that I love you?”</p><p>“<em> You sure have, Rod Stewart, but it doesn’t hurt to repeat it. I deserve all the fucking praise. </em>”</p><p>His eyes slid shut, and he couldn’t help but smile. Behind his eyelids, he could see her leaning over the island with her phone pressed against her head. A teasing grin graced her face, tongue poking out between her teeth. She rested her chin in her hand and stared out across the kitchen. “Did it actually work at least?” he asked with his eyes still closed. “The carbonating.”</p><p>“<em> Well, when we pulled it out of the ceiling, the little bit of lemonade that was still in there was mixed with pieces of drywall, so we couldn’t exactly drink it. But it did fizz a fuckton when I poured it down the drain, so I think ultimately the experiment was a success. </em>”</p><p>“Well, hey, that’s a plus, I guess,” he sighed, pressing down on the break and the button start for his car to get it to roar to life. “I’m heading out now.”</p><p>“<em> Okay, nerd. Drive safe. I love you. </em>”</p><p>“I always do.” He paused a beat to let the phone switch over to bluetooth. “I love you too.” He smiled at the screen of his console as if Emma were going to pop up and be looking at him. A fond vaguely longing smile. Not that he had to long or pine for her. She was there always. A constant in the weird world he was stuck in. His hands wrapped around the steering wheel. “I love you, too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed the work friends! I had fun writing them! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Old</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul and Emma take a four day weekend that goes awry very quickly.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, this was intended to be a short lil guy, but hey here we are I guess?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was nice to take a three day weekend during the summer from time to time. At least that’s how Emma looked at it. The kids were home and more at ease than they were during the school year. The days were longer and left more time to enjoy anything and everything. Once they passed over the treacherous month of June, three or even four day weekends were much more likely to happen. June marked the end of the second quarter of the year, which meant Paul spent most nights late at the office or holed up downstairs in the office during the ends of quarters. Sometimes there were even excessively late nights trying to dot every I and cross every T that he would bring his laptop up to bed. He would sit and work while she ended up falling asleep watching a rerun of some shitty reality TV show she threw on to turn her brain off for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they had both agreed to take Friday and Monday off that weekend, as it was one of the last the kids would have before going back to school in September. Usually it would be spent with large pancake breakfasts and children pestering about what their plans would be for the weekend. Begging for anything they could get. Hiking. Going to the beach. Shopping. Going over to Fort Hidgens. Literally, anything they could do to get out of the house. On this day, however, there was no pancake breakfast. There were no yammering children. The house was entirely quiet when her eyes finally forced themselves open except for the quiet hum of music from downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sunlight poured through the curtains in their bedroom. The blankets on his side of the bed had been pulled up and made as best they could be with her still twisted up in them. She threw her side up haphazardly. With a sigh, she took an extra second to smooth out the comforter just below her pillow. She was fairly certain she had never made her bed in her entire life before Paul, yet here she was, begrudgingly fixing the sheets, so she wouldn’t have to see him doing it later. Not in a passive aggressive fashion. It was more second nature. Something he always did and would continue doing. From his dresser, she pulled out the t-shirt that made her laugh most. Bright yellow with different colored letters all over the chest. In small print and plain font: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hatchetfield High School Presents</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Large multi-colored with a more decorative font: </span>
  <em>
    <span>All Shook Up.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eli had gotten it for Paul after the first high school musical he was in, where he had proved to have a natural inclination for tap dancing. The shirt was given to him mostly because Eli thought it was funny since Paul very much did not like musicals, but god damn, did Paul wear that shirt proudly and often. She found a pair of shorts that was still on the floor from the day prior. The house sounded like there weren’t any children in it, but it was probably best to be decent just in case it was a rare moment of the kids being quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s bedroom door was open, blankets left strewn across her bed like the remnants of a battlefield. Dirty clothes littered the floor. Books were stacked in small towers around the room. Paul had gotten her a bookshelf that really became a drying rack for various clay projects she had been working on. Mostly rudimentary figures shaped out of a low quality clay from a craft store, but she was enjoying herself. On the other hand, Eli’s bedroom was impeccable from what she could see through his bedroom door. Bed made. Everything in its place. Even the futon they had pulled out from the basement--an ancient relic from Emma’s apartment--that Jasper allegedly slept on was made tidy. A bottle of Flonase, an inhaler, and an amber prescription vial sat atop Eli’s dresser. The typical decoration the past four summers. And a lot of weekends. And spring break. To think, they thought they were being sneaky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She climbed down the stairs and moseyed into the kitchen, where she found Paul leaning over the countertop of the island. A bowl was in his hand, a spoon in the other, as he munched quietly on its contents. He was still wearing the shirt he had fallen asleep watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>Law &amp; Order</span>
  </em>
  <span> in, and he stared off into the distance like he was still asleep mentally even though his hair was smoothed down like he had been up long enough to realize he looked like a ragamuffin. His gaze shifted to her when she entered. “Hey,” he greeted through a mouthful of food. Yawning as a response, she moved through the kitchen, around the island, and towards the coffee maker. On her way, she made sure to give his ass a quick nonchalant pat. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You were snoring last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing on her toes, she reached up into the cabinet to pull out a mug. </span>
  <em>
    <span>WORLD’S BEST BOSS.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had gotten it for him as a token of him getting the promotion a few years back. Partly, though, she got it because she knew he would lose his shit over the reference to </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Office</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which is exactly what he did. She landed back on her heels and immediately began filling the cup with coffee. “Well, you snore most nights, so it’s fucking payback,” she shot back, carrying her mostly full mug over to the refrigerator. A splash of milk to cut the bitterness a bit. She lost the taste for sweet coffee years ago. She blamed him. The fridge door shut behind her as she took a long sip of warmed caffeine. She jutted her chin out toward him. “Your butt looks good in those pants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked over his shoulder after shoveling another spoonful of what appeared to be Lucky Charms into his mouth. His brows furrowed. “You say that about every pair of pants I wear,” he replied, looking skeptical of her observations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I say? A fine ass will look fine no matter what package it comes in.” Another hot glug of coffee. She savored the feeling of the liquid sliding down her throat and settling into her gut. There had been a period of time where coffee mostly repulsed her. After working for so many years at Beanies, she stated she never wanted to make another cup of coffee ever again, but something about spending a nice Saturday morning out in the back yard with him, chatting over their cups of coffee, made the drink really have a lot more appeal to her. She sidled up next to him, peering into his bowl of sugary cereal. “So did you murder the children and take their cereal or did they finally run away on us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyebrows shot up. “Um, no. I didn’t murder the children,” he assured her, though the shock and hesitation in his voice would have made it easy to tease him about not being truthful. “No, Dani was out early this morning. Something about going over to someone named Lara’s house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her friend from Spanish class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right and she may or may not be coming back tomorrow. Then Eli and Jasper have been out on the front porch for the better part of the morning… though now that I’m thinking about it I have no idea what they’re doing out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably holding hands or some shit,” she assumed with a shrug. “You know gross young and in love stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and spooned more cereal into his mouth. “What a couple of nerds,” he concurred while trying very hard to keep the milk and marshmallows in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Takes one to know one, huh, nerd?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we going to just forget the nerdy shit you were saying to me last night, nerd?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a moment of weakness, and you’re going to use that </span>
  <em>
    <span>against</span>
  </em>
  <span> me? That’s just downright cruel, Paul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just calling it how I see it.” He smirked down at her, placing the bowl down onto the counter. “You love me, and I’m telling everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pfft, okay. So you’re going to tell Ted and Bill. Big fucking deal.” Her eyes landed on the bowl that was now in full view for her. She arched a brow as she glanced back over at him. “I’m sorry. Are my eyes fucking deceiving me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked between her and the bowl before pursing his lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he responded, pulling the bowl closer to his person as if that was going to change the shit he was about to be given. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you eat all the fucking cereal and leave the marshmallows for last?” she questioned, laughter bubbling up in her voice. “Are you twelve?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The marshmallows are the best part,” he insisted. “I wanted to save them for last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to reiterate: are you fucking twelve?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes at her before he took another mouthful of marshmallows and milk. “You better watch it,” he warned, pointing his spoon in her directions. “If I’m twelve, everything from last night is about to get real fucking weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bit down on her lip to keep from barking out a laugh, although her bouncing shoulders were probably giving her away. It was funny to think that this same person was the same one who absolutely could not poke fun at her for almost the first full year they dated. He always told her that he loved how quick she was. That her wit was something he envied and loved to watch unfold, yet he wasn’t too bad himself. He could keep up with her on her best days. Truthfully, if he couldn’t, things probably would not have gone as well as they did. “You’re a little shit,” she finally uttered. An absolutely atrociously lame response. “But fuck, that thing you did last night was… I don’t know. That was fucking art, Paul.” She nudged him with her hip. The grin spreading across her face at the blush blooming over his cheeks couldn’t be stopped. “I’ve got to say. You’ve still got it, kid. Even after--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad,” Eli’s voice called into the house. “There are these old people…” A voice from outside seemed to be scolding him, causing his words to trail off. “Sorry, there are some people here to see you. They said they know you, and you would know them I guess.” His tone was a little strained. Like he had been made nervous by something. The discomfort was evident, palpable even. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looked down to her and received a shrug in response. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. Let alone someone who Eli wouldn’t have recognized. Her scope of acquaintances didn’t go very far, and most of the people either of them knew well enough to come over, both of the kids would have known them as well. They could both hear Eli quietly talking with whoever was outside. Two voices could be made out. Neither one immediately recognizable. “Better go see what weirdos have stumbled their way to our fucking house,” she suggested. “I’ll keep your marshmallows safe while you’re gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes as he pushed off of the counter. “Oh, you’re too good to me,” he muttered while exiting the kitchen into the foyer. “E, are you okay?” She shifted along the counter to peer into the foyer. Eli was hanging halfway out on the porch and in the house, facing whoever was outside. Paul placed a hand on the door above Eli and gently pulled it open. She could see him physically stiffen. “Boys, youshould go inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, we were in the middle of--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you need to head inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elijah, I told you to go inside, so go!” His tone was sharp and authoritative. Two things he almost never was. Something in her spine bristled, feeling like a spooked cat. Sets of pattering feet entered through the door, stiff and concerned. “Thank you. Now, stay in here please.” The door squealed shut behind him, and the boys came wandering into the kitchen. Eli’s brows were knit together in something between concern and annoyance. Jasper’s eyes wouldn’t leave the floor as he followed Eli.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on out there?” she questioned, hoping to get a little more clarity on what was happening beyond her vantage point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know these two old fucking assholes rolled up and started asking me shit like if I knew who they were or not,” Eli explained, opening the fridge without any real purpose. Just in an effort to let out some kinetic energy. “And like of fucking course I haven’t. I’ve never seen them in my life. I don’t know--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen them,” Jasper piped up, causing both of them to stare right at him. It wasn’t the norm for him to suddenly pitch into a conversation. Usually, a response had to be coaxed out of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma narrowed her eyes. “Where’d you meet them, Jas?” she asked, skin crawling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasper shrugged, eyes dragging up from the floor to meet hers. “They're usually there when we go to Aunt Lil and Uncle Dan’s for New Years,” he answered. “Mom usually doesn’t usually let us hang around the adults for too long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart sank right into her stomach upon putting the pieces of Paul’s reaction and Jasper’s vague knowledge together. “You two stay right here,” she said as she bounded around the island. When she stepped into the foyer, she spun around to see Eli about to challenge her. Her eyes went dark and face serious. “Did I stutter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both boys’ gazes fell to the floor in front of them. “No, ma’am,” Eli answered. “You did not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then sit the fuck down and stay fucking put.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pounding in her head was difficult to ignore while she dashed across the foyer and out the front door. It was warm out even though it was still early enough in the morning. The humidity slapped her in the face like a wet blanket. Almost as hard as Paul’s tone stabbed her right in the gut. “You mean to tell me you’re going to show up at my house because you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘in the neighborhood’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, unannounced, and then have the balls to try and tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> how to parent,” he all but growled at the tall and slender elderly couple across from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cool blue eyes met hers. “Emma, what a surprise,” Astrid mused as if it wasn’t fucking obvious that she would have been inside her own fucking house. Astrid’s attention returned to Paul, whose face was beet red. “This little </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> between you two is running a lot longer than we thought it would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This little </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he seethed, gesturing to the quickly closing space between Emma and him. “This little… Jesus, why am I even feeding into this? Why are you even fucking--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen,” Emma cut in as she rested a hand on Paul’s stomach. A sign that she was going to step in before his head exploded. “First of all, we’ve been in this little </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> for almost twenty fucking years, so stop fucking dancing around that goddamn fact. Second, what the hell are you doing here?” The comment she walked out to him saying hit her chest hard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holding hands and shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “You need to back your fucking dumbass… Porsche? Yeah, whatever. You need to leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have every right to see our grandchildren,” Glen rumbled from behind Astrid. They both got fucking old. All grey and wrinkled. They looked fantastic for getting up into what Emma assumed was their eighties, but mean and ugly insides had the tendency to surface the longer that person hung around on the earth. “And it seems we saw a little more than we bargained for. Our grandson was out here with that… boy and--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, fucko,” she hissed, pointing right at him. “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>son. He’s nothing to either of you, so don’t--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em, stop. It’s--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not going to stop.” She turned to face Paul, eyes wide with anger. “These absolute fucks tormented you your entire childhood and now expect they have a place in our lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, I think she’s been infecting your boy’s mind. Made him into some sort of pansy,” Glen added. When Emma looked back, he had this smirk lazily laying across his lips. The kind of expression she wondered if he wore his whole life. The look he would give to anyone who tried to outdo his sons. Who tried to undermine his authority. Who had the audacity to not do as he said. “We’ve tried to tell you about her for how many years now, boy? You just don’t learn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We thought it was time that your children had some strong </span>
  <em>
    <span>positive</span>
  </em>
  <span> forces in their lives,” Astrid explained, long graceful hands moving about as she spoke. “Clearly, they need it. That… absolute lunatic in that dilapidated building on the south side of town unsurprisingly hasn’t helped them along the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma looked back at Paul. “I’m about three seconds away from beating the shit out of your oldass mother,” she alerted him. It was mostly a cry for her self control (Paul) to come and intervene, but there was a big piece of her that just wanted to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry’s always been on the… feminine side,” Glen commented, poking a barely sleeping bear. “Maybe he’s the one that did it. Did something to the kid, and--” She lunged toward him, but Paul caught her by the elbow mid-movement. A whisper of a grin was still on Glen’s face. “See, look at her. Obviously still stuck in the trash with that dead sister of hers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s fucking gay!” she hollered with Paul still holding onto her arm. “And who gives a flying fuck? Not us. He’s a great kid, and you’ll never get to know that firsthand. He’s smart and kind and… fucking cleanly as fuck, but you’ll never fucking know!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She yanked her arm out of Paul’s grasp. “No, I have something to fucking say,” she growled, stepping forward. “That boy could sleep with hundreds of different men or women, and he would still have more good in his pinky finger than either of you have in your entire body. He’s a better person that we ever could have dreamed, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly,</span>
  </em>
  <span> something’s fucking going right here, huh?” Astrid opened her mouth to respond. “Shut your fucking trap, Olive Oyl. I’m not fucking done here. You have some fucking nerve coming to our home to get to know our children and just degrade one of them right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be spoken to like--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, you oversized stale meathead, if I wanted your input, I’d ask,” she seethed. “If our son wants to mack on some dude, that doesn’t mean he’s any less of a human. He--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like he’s not getting any real example of man power coming from his father then,” Glen remarked, looking directly at Paul. “It’s a real shame we couldn’t make you more of a man, son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul shut his eyes, taking a deep breath in. Emma watched him and could see him trying to roll around with the emotions in his head. Thinking of the best way to approach this shit stain of a situation. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dad,” he finally sighed. “I really don’t. You come here just to torment us, and I just really don’t have the energy for either of you anymore.” He took a few steps forward to do something she hadn’t expected. His arm wrapped around his mother briefly in a quick awkward hug. Then he moved toward his father to shake his hand, which did not firm up in the shake due to the puzzling nature of the action. Without releasing Glen’s hand, he brought his eyes up to meet his father’s. “But for the record, he’s going to know I love him no matter what. He’s always going to know that I love him and accept him. He’ll always be safe and wanted. And I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> lay a finger on him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of her eye, Emma could see movement on the front porch. She cursed to herself silently because that kid just couldn’t mind his business. There was a moment where she almost dashed back to the house to make sure he stayed the fuck inside, but Paul continued his quiet monologue. “It was nice to see you two,” he said, obviously a lie, but not the point of his statement. “But we have plans, so you’re going to have to head out.” He moved fluidly from unwinding his hand from his father’s to guiding Emma by her lower back up to the front porch. The sun was scalding on her skin. They hadn’t even been out there that long. At least she didn’t think they had been. Being around his parents felt like being sucked into a black hole. All time and space had no meaning. She just couldn’t wait to get out. He turned to face them again once he hit the top step. “And please, keep your distance in the future. We don’t need you fucking with more children’s heads.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pushed through the front door and into the cool reprieve of the air conditioned house. As he locked the door behind him, she turned to observe him. His face was red either from anger or the sun. She couldn’t be sure. But he still stood tall as he had before going outside. His eyes were glazed with a layer of exhaustion that wasn’t there previously. “This is the worst day off I’ve ever had,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “That includes the day where we went to the ER because Eli broke that vase and I sliced my foot open on broken ceramic, which, for the record, fucking sucked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. You complained about it for the entire week after.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or that prostate exam. That guy was the fucking worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember. You brought me with you to the appointment and then told me about what an asshole he was the entire drive home.” She reached out to touch his chest. Just a gentle bit of contact right at the center, feeling his heart pounding against his ribs. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “I’m just tired, Em,” he told her, catching her hand as it fell from his chest. “I just need a break, and that wasn’t it. Can we just--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They seem shitty.” Both of their heads snapped in the direction of the entrance to the kitchen. Eli stood still in just a pair of shorts. He was long and tan from all the time spent outdoors between the spring and summer. His cheeks were pink, unusual given the general olive tone of his complexion, and he sounded a little stuffy. Eyes were slick and red. A little puffy even. He looked for a moment like a young man and a little boy all at once. “I’m sorry if I messed something up. I didn’t mean to, Dad. I promise. I can’t help it… but I mean, if you guys need Jasper to go home, it’s okay. I don’t want--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eli, no,” she interjected while they both crossed the space to stand in front of him. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She pushed a stray curl off of his forehead. “You’re fine. Both of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes lifted to Paul as if he was looking for some affirmation that what she said was the truth. The break in his heart was made visible on Paul’s twisting features, and for a split second, she thought he might burst into tears. “You’re okay, E,” he confirmed. “I promise. You’re so good, Eli.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Eli’s face pinched, she could tell that the floodgate was about to open. It reminded her of the way Paul looked in the middle of the night during those early days. Sitting down in the kitchen scrubbing incessantly at a pot that was more than clean. “I just don’t want to fuck everything up for you guys. I watched all these shows where it really fucks everyone up for a long time when they find out their kid is gay, and I know you don’t talk to them like ever. But I don’t want to be the reason you aren’t,” he babbled, tears bubbling up in his eyes while he wrung his hands in front of him. “Some guy online said that you guys weren’t the norm and that I was really lucky. And Jas is having a really hard time at home. Linda’s being a real bitch about everything, and I just don’t want you guys to be--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eli,” Paul interrupted with his hands on Eli’s shoulders. Brown eyes snapped up to him, tears spilling from the corners. “It’s really okay. This isn’t anything you ever need to worry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they’re your family,” Eli reminded as he dug his thumb nail into the side of his palm. In an effort to comfort and calm him, Emma reached out to hold onto his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, but so are you.” She watched their equally anxious faces examine one another. Eyes scanning over every word that could possibly come out of the other’s mouth. Trying to make sure there were no cracks in anyone’s story. Praying that everything was good and would continue that way. “You and your sister are the most important family I have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eli sniffled. “What about Mom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looked over his shoulder at her with a bittersweet smile on his face. “Eh, she’s alright I guess,” he teased. “We can keep her, I guess.” He brought his eyes back to Eli and squeezed his shoulders slightly. Bending down to be eye to eye with him, Paul rested a hand on Eli’s cheek. “Don’t beat yourself up over things, E. We love you so much no matter who you are. No matter what you’re still ours.” Eli threw himself into Paul’s arms, waterworks going full force. For a moment, Paul was taken aback and almost unsure of what to do. When his hands fell back to him, one hand on the back of his head and the other around his shoulders, a strange expression came over him. Like he was suddenly in a different place or time. The words he had spoken suddenly felt to her like he was trying to say them to himself somewhere in the past. Somewhere huddled in his bed crying after being reamed out for not excelling in soccer. Somewhere alone in the middle of the night with racing thoughts of inadequacy. He turned to press a soft kiss against Eli’s temple. “You’re good, Eli. So good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s hand landed softly on Eli’s back as his shoulders heaved. “Do you want me to go beat the shit out of Linda for you?” she offered, getting a soft laugh through tears from him and a half grin from Paul. “Because I would go through lawsuit hell and back if you need me to.” He shook his head in Paul’s neck. “Okay, well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eli pulled away from Paul with a stuffy chuckle, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to get all… like that on you. With the… friggen tears and stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Dad cries all the time. Don’t worry about it,” she chirped without skipping a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, Em.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really, Dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> not really. Sometimes, but that’s totally normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned into Eli and nudged him with her elbow. “He gets really sappy at night and sometimes gets a little weepy talking about how happy we all make him,” she explained. “It’s sweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s really nice, Pop, but you’re a huge dork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul glanced up at the ceiling before closing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh that ended with a smile on his lips. “I can’t believe this,” he grumbled while looking to Eli with a finger pointed right at him. “You just wait until you’re out here writing love letters and shit. You’ll be a dork one day, too. Just wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wrote Mom love letters?” Eli snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma looked to Paul with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. He responded with an arched eyebrow and smirk. “Yeah, and she kept every single damn one,” he retorted. Her face flushed red. She was supposed to be the cool one. Not some nerd like him. Though, to be fair, he had worn her down over the years and molded her into just as big of a dork as he was. “That’s fucking right, bub.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you talking to me with that attitude, Papi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I am, you dork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before another word could be uttered, Eli was hugging Paul once again. “Thank you,” he whispered, holding onto Paul as tight as his arms would allow him to. He took a deep breath against Paul’s neck as if he were going to go on another long winded tangent. Instead, he just let the breath out shakily. “I love you even if you’re a big dork, Dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another sigh that shifted into a chuckle left Paul. “I love you, too, Eli. Even if you’re not willing to admit that you’re going to take the dork throne one day.” Eli scoffed. A fond smile found its way to Paul’s lips as he ran a hand over the back of Eli’s head. She watched on, imagining a little baby there in that big dumb dork’s arms. Being held close to his heart as he tried so hard to translate how much love he felt into the embrace. A quiet moment of joy that he knew wouldn’t last forever. That he knew would turn into more anxiousness and uncertainty. Feelings he would try his best to alleviate whenever he could. “But you don’t need to thank me. I’m just doing my job.” She could see Eli’s arms tighten, a heavy trembling breath going in through his mouth. “You know that right?” Eli nodded into his neck. “Good.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emma goes away. Paul works late.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THINGS ARE COMING TOGETHER IN MY HEAD AND HOPEFULLY I CAN GET SOME STUFF OUT HERE QUICKER.</p><p>I'm so glad you all are enjoying the kiddos and sweet bb Jasper. You all bring me such joy and I'm just alsjfl;ksjdjlkfsdlakj so happy to share my silly self indulgent writing and I APPRECIATE YOUR COMMENTS SO MUCH I JUST WANTED TO SAY THANK YOU.</p><p>Now that we're done with that yelling on my part, back to our regularly scheduled programming.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “I got in maybe an hour ago, and let me tell you, Paul. This fucking hotel room is unreal. Why don’t we ever do shit like this?” </em>
</p><p>Paul leaned back in his chair at his desk down in the basement with his cell phone pressed up against his ear. A lazy smile played over his lips. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “We just don’t really… go away really.”</p><p><em> “Well, you and me, Papi. We’ve got to do something and get a niceass hotel. I mean, it’ll be fine tonight. I’ve got a six pack and </em> Forensic Files <em> to keep me company, but I’m being fucking serious about going away somewhere.” </em></p><p>“Just give me a time and a place.”</p><p>
  <em> “I’m going to hold you to that.” </em>
</p><p>“I know you are.” He ran a hand through his hair before glancing at the time. It was well after seven o’clock, and he had promised himself he wouldn’t work past six thirty. The Chinese food had arrived an hour before. He brought his food down to idly pick at with his chopsticks as he attempted to work with just as little motivation. It was odd to not have a big mouth sitting on his desk to give him a hard time over still working. “I’m just glad you made it safe.”</p><p>
  <em> “Of course, I did. You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easy did you? Wishful fucking thinking.” </em>
</p><p>He had to admit it was nice to hear Emma’s voice even if she wasn’t home. Her group at work flew down to Baltimore for some conservation network event. He had been away for his own trips with work, but it was his first time being home without her since she had moved into the old house. Things felt a little dull and quiet without her even if it had only been half a day. There was still a whole week left. “I miss you,” he admitted, sitting forward to lean on his elbow against the desk. His chin propped itself up in his palm.</p><p>
  <em> “You nerd, it’s only been a few hours. Get it together.” </em>
</p><p>“I’m still working.”</p><p>
  <em> “God dammit. I leave you for just a little while and you can’t just work normal people hours. Get it together, Paul!” </em>
</p><p>A smirk crossed his face. “What can I say? You’re my self control,” he told her and could practically feel the eye roll she was inevitably doing. “What’s on your plate for tomorrow?”</p><p><em> “We’ve got some shit to do at that conference center not far from the Inner Harbor and then John has this whole big dinner thing planned afterwards. Some niceass restaurant. Then it’s back to this banging hotel room to maybe hang out with some reruns of </em> Law &amp; Order. <em> I’m really hoping it’ll be the Lenny Briscoe years. Don’t care who the partner is. All I want is some Jerry fucking Orbach.” </em></p><p>“Mmm, sounds like fun,” he replied. He could picture her in his mind. Sitting cross-legged up by the pillows in her hotel room. Wearing just one of his t-shirts she ultimately brought with her. Holding a can of beer that was cracked open and already halfway gone. “I should probably just close this up for the night and head upstairs.”</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, make sure the children aren’t setting each other on fire.” </em>
</p><p>“They only do that when I’m not home.”</p><p><em> “Paul, that was </em> one <em> time. You’ve got to let it go.” </em></p><p>“We’ll put a pin in it,” he chuckled. “But it’s a little tough to just forget that you let them be in charge of building a fire in the back.”</p><p>
  <em> “They seemed perfectly fucking capable.” </em>
</p><p>“You sound like Hidgens.” That elicited a belly laugh out of her. Still giving him the same feeling as listening to the comforting tune of an old music box. Familiar and warm. His eyes glanced up at the door as it nudged open. Dani stood quietly in the crack between the frame and the door. “Hey, Em. I’m going to go. I think the natives are getting restless.”</p><p>
  <em> “That’s what you fucking get for working until almost eight at night.” </em>
</p><p>“Yeah, whatever.” She was right, but he wasn’t willing to admit it in that particular moment. “I love you.” He turned his attention to the girl in the door. “Do you want to talk to Mom, Dan?”</p><p>She nodded and slipped further into the room. A large book with no print on the cover or spine was held across her chest as she took his phone. “Hello?” A beat of silence to listen to whatever Emma had to say. “Yeah.” She bit down on her lower lip and nodded along to whatever Emma was telling her. “Yeah, it’s good.” A quiet laugh. “Okay, I will.” Her lips spread into a wide grin. “Okay, I love you, too, Mama.” She nodded again as if Emma could see her. “Okay.” Their eyes met while he tucked a strand of long hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Goodnight. I love you, too.”</p><p>The phone landed back in his hand, which he brought up to his ear to see if there was more conversation to be had. “Em?”</p><p>
  <em> “Alright, dingus. Be good and try not to miss me too much, okay?” </em>
</p><p>“Well, since you asked so nicely, I’ll consider it.”</p><p>
  <em> “Good. I love you.” </em>
</p><p>“Love you, too.”</p><p>
  <em> “And also for the record, I miss you just a little bit, but don’t go fucking telling anyone.” </em>
</p><p>“Who am I going to tell? Dani and Eli? Do you think they’ll believe that you said something like that?”</p><p><em> “Fair point. Have a good night, okay? Try not to watch too much </em> Cold Case Files <em> because you’ll get too anxious and won’t sleep.” </em></p><p>“Thanks, Mom. I’ll keep that in mind.”</p><p>
  <em> “You should.” </em>
</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>
  <em> “Okay.” </em>
</p><p>“... okay?”</p><p>
  <em> “Well, get off the phone, jackass.” </em>
</p><p>“No, <em> you </em>get off the phone.”</p><p>
  <em> “I hate you.” </em>
</p><p>“No, you don’t.”</p><p>
  <em> “Goodnight, Paul.” </em>
</p><p>“Night, Em.” He watched the call with <em> bearer of spawn </em> fade off of the phone screen and into a picture that had appeared out of nowhere one day after he had left his phone in the kitchen. It was of Dani and Eli with exaggerated wide eyes, looking either surprised or horrified. The picture showed up as his phone background that day, likely making fun of the face he often made around all of them, but he ultimately kept it as the background because each time he looked at it, his heart felt like it could soar right out of his chest. He really should have worked on finding a better passcode for his phone. However, he also really enjoyed the photos that would pop up from time to time and Emma’s incessant name changing for her contact. His gaze moved to Dani, who was still standing in front of him with both of her arms wrapped around the odd book. “What’s up, Dani girl?”</p><p>She fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do with her long limbs. As she quickly progressed toward her teenage years (still over a year away he liked to remind Emma), she grew lankier and more awkward by the day. Sometimes, she looked almost like a newborn giraffe stumbling around, tripping over her own feet. There were times he felt like he was flashing back to his own childhood where he struggled to find a good fit in his own skin. He only hoped that she would find the fit before she was thirty. “So Mom left this with me while she’s gone, and she told me not to show you because it’s a secret,” she explained, inching closer to him. “But I miss her and I don’t know who everyone is in here.”</p><p>The book was thrust in his direction. It was bound with what he assumed was faux black leather and embossed with golden vines along the edges. The pages were thick, which led him to believe it wasn’t some sort of book that was meant to be read. He opened it to a set of black pages. In the center of the cover sheet was a message written in Emma’s neat and familiar handwriting in silver ink… with a few corrections and cross outs. He went to begin reading what it said when Dani snuck her way under his arm and onto his lap. She had outgrown it ever so slightly, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that.</p><p>
  <em> To the best customer I ever had </em>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em> Happy 15! </em>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <em> (I fucked up and didn’t have it finished in time so maybe happy 20?) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I was going to write out some whole fucking quote by Bob Marley. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But it was so fucking long Paul. So long. So you’re going to have to settle for a snippet of it </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em> <em> Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Congrats nerd. You hooked me in for the long haul. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Love you long time Papi. </em>
</p><p>“Dan, is this supposed to be a gift for me?” he wondered before pressing forward to turn the page.</p><p>She shifted in his lap. “I don’t know,” she replied about as convincing as she would be saying the sky was green. Her eyes shifted up to glance over at him and then immediately darted away. “Okay, maybe, but I just wanted to look at it and some of the people I don’t recognize. And I want to know what you think about them because I’ve heard all of Mom’s stories but not yours.”</p><p>He was curious about what was in the book, although he was well aware he shouldn’t indulge Dani in her sneaking it to him. But he also did want to know. “Okay, but not a word to Mom, okay?”</p><p>“Okay!”</p><p>“Okay,” he sighed, opening up the first page and almost immediately barking out a laugh. The cardboard coffee cup sleeve with her smudged phone number on it and several Beanies receipts he had held onto out of habit were stuck to the page. An illustration of a coffee emoji and the terrible font on the old Beanies awning littered the rest of the page. On the opposite page, there were two pictures that appeared to be taken one after another based upon the expressions in them and his vague recollection of the night. “Oh jeez.”</p><p>“When were these from?” Dani wondered, pointing at the top picture.</p><p>They were both terrible quality. Probably from Ted’s cell phone if memory served him correct. The top was clearly taken outside in low light. Paul and Emma sat at the old patio table Ted used to have in his backyard. They were leaning in close to one another. Her mouth was shaped into an open-mouthed smile as she spoke while he stared down at her with a broad grin on his face. She had agreed to meet up with his friends for the evening but only because there was booze involved. Earlier in the evening she had denied that she was his girlfriend, not wanting to give a label to whatever the fuck they were doing. After his initial disappointment, he was still just happy to have her there even if she wasn’t his girlfriend. Just a girl he was seeing. She still continued to laugh with him all night and constantly have a hand on him all evening. Just a subtle contact that seemed to always be there. The second picture, on the other hand, depicted them both looking at the camera looking mildly disgusted. His face was contorted in a grimace. Her mouth was open and brows furrowed, clearly mid-holler, with her middle finger raised high and proud. </p><p>“Mom and I had been dating a couple months, and Ted had this barbeque bonfire thing,” he began to tell Dani, mind drifting slightly. Later that evening, Emma had curled up into his side as the fire raged on. She was a little drunk and slap happy, but that didn’t make him enjoy the subtle soft kisses she pressed against his jaw any less. “These are probably the first pictures anyone ever took of us together. Mom was pissed off that Ted was being an idiot and trying to take secret pictures of us but had his flash on the whole time.”</p><p>“She doesn’t look <em> that </em>pissed. She looks happy.”</p><p>When he looked at the photo, he could see where Dani was coming from. There was a whisper of a smile still on Emma’s face even as she shouted obscenities at Ted. Her other hand was off somewhere behind the table. He had been a few drinks into his night, having to sober up very late in the game eventually, but he vaguely recalled her fingers tracing circles on his palm. “I guess. A little bit,” he agreed as Dani flipped a few pages forward. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight of the picture on one of the pages. “Huh.”</p><p>She turned to him. Their eyes met for just a moment before he looked back to the picture, a happy bubble growing in his gut. He had never thought much about his eyes except for the fact that they gave off the illusion that he was completely out of his mind. Or terrified all the time. Never did he think he would melt looking into a matching pair. Emma loved that she had his eyes and made that very clear from day one. “What?” she asked, glancing between his face and the page in front of them.</p><p>“I’ve just never seen this picture before,” he commented while pointing at a photo that was clearly taken from a distance. It was zoomed in from the other side of a pool. There they sat with their legs dangling in the crystal clear water. He was a little pink from being out in the sun, and she was the exact opposite. Glorious and tan from all the time she spent outside doing research for her summer botany course. A beer bottle hung lazily in front of him from a hand that dangled between his knees. The second had her hand wrapped around it about to be pulled to her mouth for a quick gulp. Her head leaned on his shoulder, lips curled up in a lopsided grin as she spoke. He, on the other hand, had a wide smile on his face. Beaming even. “I don’t even…” His words trailed off as he read the blocked print that was beside a few doodles of fireworks and middle fingers. <em> Nabbed this one from Marnie. She thought it was cute, and Jack was so stoked you brought a date home she got a picture to commemorate it. </em> “Oh.”</p><p>“When was this?”</p><p>“Back when Mom and I had first started dating.”</p><p>“Is that your old house?”</p><p>He snorted. “No.” No, it was far too nice to be the little old house he bought with his own money. His pride and joy for so many years. Just a little hideaway from the sad and dull life he led otherwise. “No, it was my parents’ house,” he said, a little unsure of whether or not he wanted to open that can of worms with her.</p><p>But instead of questioning him, she just blinked at him. “Oh, I thought you didn’t have parents,” she replied, deadpan, which caused him to erupt with laughter. Mostly because he wasn’t picturing his parents having passed away or something like that in her mind. No, he pictured her assuming he just popped out of the ground one day the way he was in that moment. That he had never been a kid with parents. “What? <em> What?” </em></p><p>He wiped a tear that was beginning to bloom in the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry, Dani girl,” he chuckled, stray laughter still sneaking through. “You just make me laugh.” He brought his attention back to the book and pointed to the other picture on the page. “I did… <em> do </em> have parents, I guess.” His index finger landed on the photo. A large group of people stood around what looked like a kitchen. Several faces she would have recognized. His own. Emma. Jack. Dan and Lillian. But there were others she wouldn’t have ever known or barely knew. He pointed to a tall man looming in the background with large glasses and a greying bristly mustache. “That’s my dad.”</p><p>“Uch.” Her face pinched in disgust. “He had a mustache?”</p><p>“Still does.”</p><p>
  <em> “Uuuuuuch.” </em>
</p><p>“What’s wrong with mustaches?”</p><p>“They’re gross.”</p><p>“Ted has a mustache.”</p><p>“I don’t like Ted’s mustache.”</p><p>“Does he know that?”</p><p>“Yeah, I told him, and he said he’s going to have a mustache even harder now. But I’m not really sure what that means.” A thin finger pointed to an older severe looking woman behind where he and Emma stood. Neatly chopped thick brown hair in a bob just above her shoulders. Eyebrows curled downward almost into a scowl above the same big blue eyes that were staring right at her. “Is that your mom?”</p><p>“Yep, that’s her,” he muttered. “Astrid and Glen. That’s them.”</p><p>“Ass turd,” she giggled. Dani had been indulging him in watching <em> the Office </em> a few nights a week. They had just recently watched Jan arrive with her baby, Astrid, after Michael’s confusion over the name’s spelling. Astrid versus Astird or ass turd, as Dani liked to really make clear. “Why don’t you talk to them?”</p><p>The answer wasn’t so simple when talking to a child. His child. To be short, they were shitty people who made his life difficult for so many years, so he didn’t really want to talk to them. But that seemed too curt. Too blunt for someone with just a little innocence left in them to hear. “Well… they did some things that weren’t so great and were really… unkind to me--”</p><p>“They’re shitty?”</p><p>“Yes, Dan,” he sighed, a small smile on his face. “They’re shitty.”</p><p>“Yeah, Mom doesn’t say much about them when we talk about this page. She just tells me that I don’t need to worry about them too much.”</p><p>“You don’t.” He leaned in to kiss the side of her forehead. As she flipped a few more pages forward, he watched her. Lower lip tucked into her mouth in concentration. Eyes narrowed out of focus. A peppering of freckles all over her face. Like the sky came down personally to sprinkle them over her skin. He let go of the side of the book he held to push a stray hair that hadn’t made it into her messy uneven pigtail braids out of her face. Some days he still wondered how his mother did it. How she could have ignored her children until they were of use to her. Or his father. How he could have had any sort of cruel intention in heart when he looked at them. </p><p>“Daddy, when was this?” It was a series of pictures starting with an old photo from Facebook. He and Emma were on either side of a ping pong table. Plastic cups were set up on either side. Significantly more lined his side of the table than hers. She was clearly shouting something at him, red in the face from either rage or alcohol… maybe both. Middle fingers flew in the air at him while he stared back at her with the biggest shit-eating grin he could muster that night.</p><p>“That’s at Ted’s house on New Years Eve. Mom was mad that Aunt Mel and I were beating Ted and her,” he remembered fondly. His eyes moved to the next photo. An action shot. Her middle fingers had fallen. Mouth still hung slack, but her eyebrows were raised in surprise. Ted could be seen in the background looking totally dazed and confused. Then there was the third picture with her hoisted right over his shoulder. Face down and looking directly at his ass. “Mom got a little… um…”</p><p>“Daddy, I know what drunk is. I’m almost twelve.”</p><p>“To be fair, I didn’t fully grasp the full idea of drunk at twelve, so I’m a little concerned here.”</p><p>“Keep going with the story! So Mom got really drunk.”</p><p>Once again, he closed his eyes for a moment to fully take in what she had just said. Maybe not so much what she had just said so much as the attitude she said it with. Emma liked to say that Dani was all him all the time, but he wasn’t so sure. There were these moments of absolute spitfireness that came out of her that definitely had nothing to do with him. Just as Eli had his quiet and bashful moments. Rare as they were, they still existed. “Yes, Mom was <em> drunk </em>. Really drunk. I don’t know that I’d ever seen her so wasted,” he continued, not holding back this time around. “Ted made this drink that they just kept throwing back, and she was sick for like the next three days. But that’s not the point. She ended up digging through my pockets while she was hanging there like that before I could stop her and found her engagement ring.”</p><p>“Grandma Agnes’s ring with the blue… guys in it, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, that one. She got all mad at me earlier in the night because I was keeping a secret from her and when she found the ring in my pocket she gave me more shit than I’ve gotten the entire time I’ve known her.”</p><p>“Really?” she asked, skeptical of this exaggeration.</p><p>“Maybe not, but she was up my ass all night about it. Not only that, she was drunk and stupid, as she would say.”</p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>“It means she had feelings... a lot of them.” Emma ended up hounding him all night. Stumbling around asking when he was going to do it with her parrot Ted following in suit, mimicking her. She questioned over and over why he wouldn’t just do it then and there because she found the ring. He told her it was because she was drunk. She denied that she was <em> that </em> drunk. Then he reminded her that they were in Ted’s house and asked if she <em> really </em> wanted to get engaged at Ted’s house. She did not, and as it turned out, she was that drunk. The next morning she remembered nothing after drinking that punch during beer pong instead of beer. It was both a relief and not at the same time. A relief that he still had the element of surprise. To his dismay that <em> he still had the element of surprise. </em> Carrying that thing around for months had been nerve wracking. Especially considering he wasn’t entirely sure if she was going to say yes, though the drunken display did make me feel a little more confident in a positive answer. “In front of <em> people.” </em></p><p>Dani’s face squished up again. “Gross,” she laughed. A tinkering lilting laugh like Emma’s. One that only seemed to come out as she got a little older. After so many years of stomping and screaming and crying, every bout of laughter was welcome. What they thought had been a problem child as a toddler just needed a little extra patience. A little extra time spent focusing on little things with her. A little one-on-one interaction. Emma would usually sit with her every night just to talk about how the day went and what the next day would be like. Now, Emma wasn’t home, so she sought him out for that little bit of comfort. </p><p>He reached out and closed the book, not ready to look and further and spoil the surprise for himself, and placed it on his desk beside his computer. Before she was able to protest, his arms wrapped around her skinny frame and pulled her tight against him. She squealed with a giggle and pulled her long legs up to tuck herself into a ball on his lap. “Oh, Dani girl,” he sighed, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I think that’s enough of that for tonight.”</p><p>“But it was only like three pages,” she whined as she craned her neck to look up at him. </p><p>“Maybe we do more tomorrow night,” he offered despite his better judgment. “Deal?”</p><p>She considered his offer, rolling her eyes and ducking her face into his neck. “Fine,” she grumbled. The way she was curled up against him made him think of the nights he would end up down on the couch with her when she would wake up with nightmares. Similar to the ones Eli had as a small child, she would wake up terrified. Sometimes talking about the blue people. Other times the green monster. Once and a while the spider that was in space. But he only started bringing her downstairs where they would both end up sleeping on the couch when she talked about the black place. Dark and cold. Nothing but black and a sickening dripping. Eli grew out of his dreams. She still came to him some nights. He kissed her forehead again. “I love you, Daddy.”</p><p>“I love you, too, Dani girl.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul picks Emma up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't even know what to say. I'm just glad everyone likes the little universe here and is actively loving the characters as much as I do.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was strange being in the airport and not traveling anywhere. Not that Paul traveled very often at all, but every time he had been at the airport in recent memory, he was the one traveling. Walking through the arrival gate with a bag in hand, exhausted and ready to be home for the first time in days. The last time he had been away there had been small excited faces sprinting toward him to pummel him in hugs. It was after the last trip Mr. Davidson had them go on before his resignation. Another fucking Ohio trip. After a final long week of rooming with Ted, seeing the kids come flying at him with beaming grins made it all almost worth it. Almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time around, the sun had just dipped below the horizon. He stood by himself against a support beam. Dani had been out with a friend all day and wasn’t home by the time he had to leave. When he was getting ready to head out, he left Jasper and Eli downstairs in front of the television. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad, nothing’s going to happen. We’re literally just watching a movie.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yeah, Paul was a teenage boy once. A teenage boy with no significant other to be home alone with, but he remembered fifteen just the same. Angsty and horny. Despite his better judgment, he left them to wait for Emma at the airport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a giddy feeling that began bubbling up in his gut when he woke up that morning. The past week had been a slight struggle for him. A random cluster of the dream where he woke up being swallowed by a suffocating darkness had stumbled upon him while she was away. If she had been home, she might have chalked it up to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Forensic Files</span>
  </em>
  <span> marathons he fell asleep to most of those nights, but it wasn’t the first time he had done that. However, it was the first time in years he had dreamt of the black place. On occasion, he would wake up in the suffocating shadows when she was home. That normally ended with the little girl--the one with the pigtails and the baseball cap--coming to bring him out. The girl had been there. She was older. Tim’s age, perhaps. She asked him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why are you here?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> When he said he didn’t know, she continued with her inquisition: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Where is she?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her eyes were panicked. Hair was pulled out of her face. She was still in overalls and looked a little dirty, but this time it was with paint he was pretty sure. Things had changed. Time had passed, but he still </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> her somehow. Sounds of distorted music humming something that sounded like </span>
  <em>
    <span>“inevitable”</span>
  </em>
  <span> over and over again, surrounding him and swallowing him like a tidal wave. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Go. Leave, Paul.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So he did. He woke up drenched in sweat in his own dark bedroom. The TV had long since turned off with hours of not being watched. He reached out for Emma, just a quick touch to bring him back to reality. To make him feel a little more grounded. But she wasn’t there. He knew that, yet his heart was racing with panic in his chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul, there’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>nothing</span>
  <em>
    <span> wrong with taking something to help you sleep.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> During his last physical, the doctor was specifically concerned about his sleeping habits and blood pressure. For the blood pressure, he suggested diet and lifestyle changes. The sleep came with a prescription to knock him out for at least seven hours every night, which he was adamantly against, but in that moment, he considered the amber vial in his nightstand drawer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he turned to pull the bottle from the drawer, he nearly jumped out of his skin, finding Dani’s quiet form standing in the doorway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Daddy, the lady said that Mom needs to come home soon.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Which lady? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The one with eyes… in the Black and White.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was what she called the girl from a young age. She had been fascinated with her eyes. Somewhere between a rich amber and khaki green. Like a kaleidoscope with golden flecks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can I sleep with you tonight?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She curled up next to him and was snoring within minutes, clutching against him as if her life depended on it. A bubble of laughter came from downstairs. He glanced at the clock on Emma’s nightstand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>12:01.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He hadn’t even been asleep that long. The boys were still up downstairs on the couch, watching whatever bullshit comedies they put on. He ran a hand over his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just a couple more days,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought as he prepared himself for another night of not sleeping for shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at the time at the top of his phone screen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>8:27.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She should have been coming through the arrival gate at any moment. A smile crept over his face. It was a Saturday night, and he couldn’t wait to take her home and promptly fall asleep at eleven PM with her. He couldn’t wait to have her tell him all about her bitching hotel room that she stayed in all week. He couldn’t wait to wrap her up his arms in the middle of the airport and ignore her groaning through her grin about how big of a dork he was. He just couldn’t wait for her to finally be </span>
  <em>
    <span>home.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Also he was probably going to try to make out with her a little bit if she wasn’t too zonked. The kids liked to tell them that they were a little gross. They liked to comment how their friends’ parents didn’t get all affectionate and “weird” at any point in time. One day, though, they would stop commenting on it with a tone of disgust. He didn’t know at that point, but there would come a time where their children would go into a world of love with such high standards, they wouldn’t settle for anything short of life changing, mountain moving emotion. But as it was at that moment, they were just embarrassed of their parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, beefcake, are you grocery shopping or clearing out my email? Because you’re definitely on my to-do list,” an exaggerated deep voice came from in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed someone approaching him from getting entranced in his own email, thinking about what he and Emma were going to do when she got home. Likely talk about their weeks, sit down for some ice cream, and then go to bed. But his work email had filled up at some point over the weekend, entwining his thoughts of their evening with his Monday morning dread. His eyes dragged up to find one big shit-eating grin before him. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and she was wearing one of his college sweatshirts that had seen better days and one of those pairs of leggings that always left him double-taking as she walked away. “You gonna fucking kiss me or what, Matthews?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His arms were around her back all at once, not needing to be convinced any further, to lift her up just slightly off the ground. Hers wound around the back of his neck as their lips met. Sometimes he wondered if people’s lives really flashed before their eyes when they either died or nearly died. He wondered what his life would look like in a flash because it was hard to remember anything without her in it. As if his life started in that moment where they met in the pouring rain outside of Beanies. His hand found its way to the back of her head, his wedding band getting stuck on a strand, causing her to pull away abruptly. “You’re about as smooth as a sheet of sandpaper, you absolute ding dong,” she laughed as he placed her back on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at her, he wondered how the kids’ friends’ parents acted. Did they even talk to each other, much less joke around? Did they go to bed and sleep at opposite ends of the mattress, so far away from one another they couldn’t touch if they tried? Did they talk about each other like a literal ball and chain, holding each other back from bigger and better things? “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> told me I was on your to-do list,” he reminded, bending down to pick her bag up off the ground. “How is it possible that your opinion could change so quickly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because you’re not smooth doesn’t me I’m not going to fuck you,” she explained while making their way through the airport that had just become very busy while he wasn’t looking. Crowded with people in a rush. People reuniting. People coming home. Her hand found his as they made their way into the crowd. ”If I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>smooth, I wouldn’t have stuck around this long.” She glanced over at him with a smirk lazily hanging on her lips. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> because I’ve been looking forward to that for the better part of this week. Your lack of tact isn’t going to fucking stop me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thank god. I was hoping you would say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You been thinking about me naked, bud?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Me? Uh… no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted. “Yeah, okay,” she muttered, pulling him along to duck and weave between other people meandering through the airport. He did his best to avoid the people she was easily fitting between, but still found himself muttering apologies to each person he managed to elbow or hip check. “Keep telling yourself that bullshit, kid. Something in me doesn’t believe you one fucking bit.” Which was fair. Because he had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even when they were out of the crowd, she kept her hand in his. He had never considered his hands to be large. His father’s were huge. Like dinner plates coming at him as a child. So large that upon noticing his own as an adult, he felt relieved that his hands were small in comparison. Gentle and soft. But the first time she held his hand, he had never felt larger. He was never someone who could hurt another person, yet he felt as though he held something fragile in a clunky and uncoordinated grasp. She told him once that he had the ability to fuck her up. To hurt her. She had given him her heart with trust but a dull underlying fear that he would smash it in a million pieces. He couldn’t imagine doing so, but early on when she began to open up, he was so worried he would trip over himself and break everything in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There they were, though. Eighteen years in and motoring through a crowded airport holding hands. His wildest dreams never put him in this place. All those days he spent waiting in line for shitty overpriced coffee just for the chance to make some casual polite small talk with her. All those years laying in his bed alone, staring at the ceiling all night wondering if that was all there was in store for him. All that time wasted thinking he was small and unworthy of anything extraordinary. “I don’t know how you can have such long fucking legs and walk so fucking slow,” she groaned before yanking him forward. Sometimes extraordinary came in very strange packages. His package so happened to be five feet tall with the vocabulary of a well educated sailor and the ability to pick him back up on his worst days. Somewhere along the line, he realized what people meant when they called their partners their better halves because she certainly was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Underneath an overhang outside the exit, they stood staring out into the early nighttime, listening to the sound of pounding rain. “Oh jeez, Emma,” he sighed, thinking about how far away the parking garage was. “I didn’t realize it was going to rain tonight. I could go get the car and pull--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without another word, she was darting out into the rain, across the parking lot directly outside the airport (with the ridiculously expensive fees). She spun around on her heel, still walking backwards into the lot. “C’mon, big guy!” she called through the pounding raindrops. “Let’s get that heart rate up, huh? Gotta keep you around for a lot of years yet!” The rain was cool and a bit relieving on his skin compared to the humid August heat he had walked in with. Drops pelted against everything they could. The pavement. Cars. His skin. He lightly jogged after her in an attempt to catch up to her. As if to mock his efforts, she continued to jog backwards to address him again. “Knees to chest, motherfucker. Otherwise you’ll catch your damn death out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated running. She seemed to enjoy it, going for a run on the treadmill or actually out on a trail at least a few times a week. Eli picked up her proclivity for it as well, running for the cross country team every fall. But Paul, on the other hand, did not care for running. He often described it as silly because the only time running was practical was if something or someone was chasing him. In this case, though, he supposed it was a practical enough application of it to chase after someone in the pouring rain because she didn’t even know where he parked the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cover of the parking garage made it a little easier to take in air and not feel like he was drowning. His lungs protested as he followed her all the way back to the car. After getting the promotion, he had let himself get a little lax with the gym. There was just no way to balance that and work and being home with the family. One of the three had to go, and the choice to him was obvious. “Listen, I have longevity on my side,” he puffed while approaching the car. She leaned against the trunk, chest heaving ever so slightly, with a smug grin on her face. “My grandmother lived until almost a hundred and my parents are going to fucking live forever I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Agnes took great care of herself from what I could see and I think lived so long out of spite for someone or something. Probably Hitler, which fucking good for her,” she replied, just out of breath enough for him to notice. He patted at her hip as a silent communication to get off of the trunk, so he could put her bag in the back. Her hand promptly pushed itself on her hip. “And I think your parents clearly signed a deal with the devil and are immortal demons now, so that’s no excuse to let yourself go, shitbird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus Christ </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. I just--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved her off, pushing his sopping wet hair off of his forehead. “I know you’re right,” he grumbled, wiggling between his car and the one next to him who barely made it in between the lines. “I just hate it </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Emma. Like, this is some kind of cruel and unusual punishment.” He squeezed himself through the small space his car door offered him without hitting the terrible parking job. Sitting in the car, soaking wet, with the chill of the air conditioning hitting them, he looked over at her. Her hair was plastered to her head now and his sweatshirt was soaked through. She kicked her shoes off before throwing her legs over the dashboard to stretch out. He smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she jabbed, her own smile touching her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just missed you. That’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes and pulled her legs down off the dash before he had the chance to chide her for how unsafe it would be if he drove around with her sitting like that. “Listen, you nerd,” she responded, leaning forward over the center console. A cold wet hand landed on his cheek. Their eyes caught for a moment, and just for the flash of a second, it felt like he had just picked her up outside of the apartment she was locked out of. That sense of excitement in how close she was to him. Her warm breath smelled like coke and a tinge of rum, something she likely indulged on during the flight. Chocolate eyes scanned over his face. His heart hammered in his chest. “I missed you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their lips met gently. Warm in the chilled car. Welcoming like he was climbing into his favorite sweater. When she pulled away, his heart ached every so slightly for her to come back. “Oh man, I love you,” he mumbled against her lips, which were still close enough to brush against as he spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tongue ran along her top lip while a toothy grin bloomed. Another quick kiss. One less gentle and more urgent than the last. “If we were younger and more spry, I might’ve said we kick these seats all the way back and see what happens, but I think we better just wait until we get home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes went wide. “Emma,” he moaned, throwing his head back against the headrest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shut the fuck up, you enormous baby. You’re getting laid tonight, whether it’s here or in our bed.” He groaned again, turning around to carefully back out of his parking spot. “Don’t be a little shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one being a little shit.” He moved the gearshift to drive. “You’re killing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, won’t do that. I definitely wouldn’t get the life insurance money if I murdered you in cold blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so now you’re just in it for the life insurance money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I not tell you already? Oh man, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I forgot to fucking tell you I’m just here to cash in on your sickass life insurance. I swear I don’t know where my fucking brain goes sometimes. I’ll tell ya!” He glanced at her quickly out of the corner of his eye. She had pulled her legs up to sit cross legged in the passenger seat and had such a smug look on her face he could barely stand it. There was no clever comeback to give her. Nothing that could be conjured up in his brain. He could barely stay annoyed at her for making him sprint across the parking lot in the rain. The joy of having her home was rising in his chest, overtaking any other feelings he could possibly have. “And for the record, I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh good, that makes me feel better about the life insurance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh for sure the first purchase I’m making is a nice fucking Ouija Board.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re un-fucking-believable, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but you signed a contract so now you’re stuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What contract?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For better or fucking worse, baby. You’re my ride or die for life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ.” Despite his sighs and general responses to her words, he smiled. Happy to have a little light back into his conversations. Happy to have her for better or worse. Happy to have her finally home. So he smiled without another word, reaching over to rest a hand on her knee as he drove, but instead, was greeted by her hand wrapping itself around his. And he knew that she had that same involuntary grin on her face as well.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Scotch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emma stays on the sidelines while Paul puts out fires.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay so my shtick is future Eli's wedding stuff every 5 chapters. So that's something to look forward to if you're into that. ALSO THANK U SO MUCH FOR READING EVERYONE. MY HEART IS SO FULL THAT YOU'RE ALL ENJOYING SO MUCH.</p><p>I also might reply to comments later. I haven't entirely decided yet.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>A Number of Years Ahead</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If she hadn’t just convinced Paul to get off his ass and actually interact with people, Emma might have just joined him hiding in the corner. Socializing with most of the attendees of the shindig they were throwing was difficult. She wasn’t entirely sure who half of them were. She didn’t have much by way of family, and the kids hadn’t really gotten close enough with a lot of his family to really invite many of them. The room was crowded, and it was expected of her to go and schmooze these strangers. She tried to hold back her groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the room, she watched Eli talk amongst a group of stuffy looking upper middle aged people, none of whom she recognized. Whatever he was speaking about had him talking animatedly, hands and all. A bright smile was plastered across his face. Neatly kept curls bounced around as a hearty laugh erupted from him. The corners of his eyes creased behind his glasses as the laughter began to die down, but the grin remained. Most days, he looked like her spitting image. However, from time to time, there was nothing but Paul in him. Sweet and soft especially as he got older. He realized at a much younger age than she did that not everything needed to be fought. It was okay to just let things go sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand landed on her shoulder, cool against the skin left bare from her dress. She hoped that Paul had somehow snuck up on her while she wasn’t paying attention, but was prepared to be fully annoyed when someone she never met was touching her. When she turned around, though, there was a pleasant surprise waiting for her. “Holy shit,” she gasped, a smirk gracing her lips. “It’s about fucking time, girl.” Dani stood before her in a maroon and cream colored dress. At some point in the last five years, the little girl she remembered holding and loving and sending off to college had dissolved into an accomplished young woman, who had planted her own roots across the country. And also she got a nose ring since they had last seen each other. She placed her glass of bourbon on the table next to them. “I thought we might not see you tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms wrapped around her still small frame. Dani was tall but shaped like a string bean. Long and thin. Tall. Though Emma wasn’t one to really be able to judge how tall someone was. Most people were taller than she was. “Well, that’s what I get for cutting the flight time too close,” she chuckled as she held Emma tight in a hug. “Daddy did tell me to get in yesterday instead of today.” When they pulled away from each other, she could have sworn for just a split second she saw a brief glimpse of young Agnes in her. Lanky and doe eyed with fair pink cheeks. But then just as quickly as that image came, it was gone. She was just her sweet girl again. Chestnut hair falling pin straight down her back. Something vaguely smoldery against her eyelashes, making the true blue pop even further. “Hi, Mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile touched Emma’s features. “Hey, Dan,” she replied, feeling a sense of quiet excitement rise in her throat. When both of the kids were finally out of the house for good, everything felt emptier than she had initially expected. Some days she still got home thinking Eli was going to be leaning over the island, eating some kind of snack. Fully prepared to hit her with some snarky comment. Other days, she found herself lingering by Dani’s bedroom door out of habit, ready to sit and talk before bed. Something they had continued to do through her time in college. There were even nights Dani would call Emma just to have that same wind down conversation they always had at home. “It’s really fucking nice to see your face in person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s fingers gently brushed up against Dani’s cheek, and if she didn’t know any better, she almost thought that she leaned into the touch. Like snuggling into a warm blanket. A small smile was still perched on Dani’s lips. “It’s nice to see you, too, Mom,” she agreed. “I missed you.” And just like that, after all the stupidity and bullshit the beginning of the night brought, Emma felt like her eyes could just well up with tears. Was this the emotion that should have come out of her parents when she returned home from being gone so many years? Hell, she and Dani talked every other day, yet Emma missed her so badly some days her aching heart could have fallen right out of her chest. “I should probably go beg for mercy from Eli, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma shook her head, taking a sip of the bourbon she picked back up after their embrace ended. “Listen, you should be thankful you weren’t there for that,” she explained into the lip of her glass. “I think your brother is probably getting hammered and full of some fucking forgiveness at this point in the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dani’s eyebrows raised. She was making that Paul face Emma liked so much. “That bad, huh?” she hummed as she discreetly grabbed Emma’s glass and took a sip. Her face twisted in disgust. “God, that’s fucking terrible. They have all this money and--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful, Daniela. Dear old mom and dad funded this fucking shindig.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mom,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I cannot believe you would have a party and have </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> shitty bourbon to go around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t deserve the nice bourbon. It was your father’s idea, and he was right. Fuck those assholes. Look at all these stodgy old men who wouldn’t know a good bourbon to save their lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking behind Emma, Dani’s brow arched. “Where is Dad anyway?” she wondered while handing the glass back to Emma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as if she were trying to remember. “Well, I told him to stop hiding in the corner to avoid socializing, so I’m thinking he’s very likely hiding in another fucking corner,” she answered with a shrug. “You know he’s no good at these things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither am I. We just have to get a little liquid courage into him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s two tequila sunrises into his night already. I think if he has any more I won’t be able to roll him out of bed for a fucking week.” She paused a beat to think about her answer. “Also I’m pretty sure he’ll beat the shit out of someone. He’s not feeling happy drunk tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He couldn’t beat the shit out of a teddy bear,” Dani snorted before glancing behind her as if she had forgotten something. “Oh fuck, yeah! So hey, I know this is a weird time to do this, but--” she pulled the woman who had been standing slightly beside her, staring off into the distance, to be beside her instead, “--so this is… Kira. My… Kira.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman extended a hand to Emma. She was taller than Dani was. Trim and fit with lean and muscular arms. Long shiny black hair framed her face. Dark chocolate eyes stared down at her with uncertainty. “It’s nice to meet you, Kira, Dani’s Kira,” Emma responded, taking her hand to shake. Yes, she vaguely recognized the woman. Someone who had popped up on Dani’s various social media she was constantly posting on. Mostly art stuff. New sculptures and exhibits she was doing. But there were some personal things. One Kira Parikh was constantly commenting and eventually showed up in a few pictures, making Dani look like she had just crawled out from underneath a rock next to Kira’s deep ochre tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice to finally meet you, too, Mrs.--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh for fuck’s sake, spare me the fucking formalities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I’m just saying she doesn’t have to be so formal.” Emma’s hand landed on Kira’s shoulder. “Please, for the love of god, just call me Emma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice to meet you, Emma. I’m--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From across the room, there was a familiar shout. She had been so concerned about Paul losing his grip on anyone in the family that was combining with theirs. He had gotten so red and angry at the rehearsal that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> had to calm him down. Words had been slung around like spitballs: aggravating and not necessarily </span>
  <em>
    <span>outwardly </span>
  </em>
  <span>malicious, but still petty and spiteful in their way. She held onto his hand tightly as it squeezed in a fist at his side and watched him chew the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something. Simple, normal, and mild mannered Paul was ready to fight the next person who opened their mouth. Normally, she would have loved to see this development. However, they were just looking for their son to have a good, smooth couple of days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The holler, though, was not from Paul. It was, in fact, from Eli. The room came to a complete halt. All she could hear were various whispers and the clinking of ice in glasses. Dani’s hand clasped her upper arm. “I am so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> tired of you and you’re fucking bullshit!” Eli yelled at someone she couldn’t quite see over the crowd. Her heart sank. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> have been nothing but fucking cruel the entire time I’ve fucking known your son, and you have the goddamn </span>
  <em>
    <span>audacity</span>
  </em>
  <span> to imply that I’m the bad fucking egg here?” He was certainly her son. She couldn’t have said it better or with any more use of ‘fuck’ if she had tried. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she had the chance to move, she saw someone moving through the crowd that was mulling about, quietly observing what was going on off at the far side of the room. “Found Dad,” she whispered to Dani, whose eyes were also on the moving figure. He ducked between people who were already mildly buzzed from the evening. “Also please find Uncle Jack later. He’s going to shit his pants that you’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom,” Dani hissed, squeezing her arm harder. “It’s not the fucking time for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How dare you, you little piece of--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? A terrible influence? Trash? Do you think I’m trash?” Eli scoffed. His cheeks were tinged pink as he waved around an empty glass in his emphatic speech. “I’m a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that shouldn’t even fucking matter. I don’t even… I don’t know why I’m fucking humoring you, you psychotic little chihuahua. All you want is to fight with anyone who gives you the time of fucking day. That’s why nobody could ever--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her breath caught in her throat when Paul entered the scene, gripping Eli’s upper arm just as Dani was holding onto hers. “Eli, come on,” he muttered, moving closer to him. Eli glared through his glasses. Curls bounced with every movement he made. “This isn’t--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eli snatched his arm from Paul. “No, I’ve stayed fucking quiet for so long, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He turned his attention back to the woman she couldn’t see but very well knew who it was. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> have been nothing but a piece of--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elijah!” His attention snapped up. Glazed eyes brimming with angry tears. Paul’s hand was back on his elbow. His eyes, unlike Eli’s, were relatively calm, which came as a surprise to her. Staring out at him pleading to give it a rest. “It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>worth</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not worth it, E,” he reiterated. Eli in that moment looked like a little boy who had just come down from a temper tantrum, realizing how much of an overreaction he had to the situation he was in. Paul’s eyes turned upward to the room. “Um… it’s an open bar, so… please, feel free to have a drink. Dinner should be out soon!” He spoke to Eli in hushed tones as he quickly dragged him out of the room. Eli’s face had gone from hard and rage filled to shattered and on the verge of tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Dani breathed, releasing her grip on Emma’s arm to pull something out a pocket in her dress. A small bottle filled with a golden liquid. Both Emma and Kira watched as she unscrewed the cap and tilted her head back to down every drop. She turned to Kira with one eye pinched shut. “You want one?” Kira shook her head. Dani glanced at Emma. “Mama?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma narrowed her eyes. “What is it?” she questioned, unsure of whether or not she should indulge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… scotch,” Dani told her, pulling another small bottle from her purse. “I came prepared just in case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Considering her options, Emma tossed her head back and forth. Through one of the doors leading out into a hallway, she could see Paul’s hands resting on either side of Eli’s face as he spoke to him. Eli nodded at whatever he was saying. She couldn’t be sure, but she could have sworn that there were tears running down his face. “Y’know what?” She drained whatever shitty bourbon was still in her glass. “Yes, I absolutely fucking do.” The bottle was small and cool in her hand. She didn’t even take a second to look and see what she was going to be drinking before cracking it open. The scotch burned all the way down and then some. It tasted like the first few weeks back in Hatchetfield. A place she didn’t know without Jane. A place that felt better when she was wasted. A place she absolutely detested. She shook her head in an effort to shake off the burning sensation in her throat. With squinted eyes, she looked back at Kira and raised her, now, empty bottle. “Welcome, Kira. I swear to god we’re much more fucking likable than this normally.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul has an interesting conversation with an unexpected guess. Emma drinks some wine.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well I'm sorry these aren't coming out so quickly, but I am trying to really put a lot of content in each lil part here. BUT I'M VERY HAPPY YOU ALL SEEM TO BE ENJOYING. THANK YOU ALL FOR READING :'D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Paul opened his eyes, he was in his car staring up at their red house. Something that so many years before felt like a shell they had yet to fill up. When they first walked through it, Emma hadn’t been sold. The wood floor was a little water damaged in one of the bedrooms, as was the ceiling. A few years prior, there had been a leak in the roof that really led the owners hadn’t even noticed right away. The appliances in the kitchen were outdated and really should have been left back in the nineties. The patio in the back was less than ideal, bricks cracking and breaking. That was really what led the elderly couple to reconsider the house. There was too much space for just two people, they decided after a three year deliberation period. And a house was just too much work and maintenance for them. A condo was much more their speed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul and Emma were the third people to walk through during the first open house. Their realtor--a middle aged woman named Candace with teeth that were too big for her mouth and a heavy use of foundation and hairspray--had blathered on as they walked through the home that smelled suspiciously of freshly baked cookies. Everything Emma pointed out was only mentioned after Candace had raved about it, leading him to believe she was only being negative to contradict Candace, who she did not like one bit. Anything Emma could complain about, she did. If he hadn’t been the one to have to deal with the fallout, he might have been entertained by Emma’s nonchalant, almost bored critiques and Candace’s face cracking a little more with each comment. Eventually they returned to their car, and before he could get a word in edgewise, Emma already had a crack to get in: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We should get it.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> When he asked what she was talking about, she rolled her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The fucking house, Paul. Keep up.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He mentioned all the things she found wrong with seemingly every room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Nothing Tom couldn’t help us patch up. The patio could be a fun weekend project for us even, and the shitty ancient fridge and washing machine might have to stick for a while. But I get a bonus in February. Yours is in April. Maybe it’s about goddamn time to make some big kid purchases.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That first night they sat on the floor over the coffee table amidst various unpacked boxes while eating cold Chinese food. The only light they had was a single bulb still burning in an old ceiling fan that was going full blast after they realized the central air was going to be one of the first repairs they made. She sat across from him, shoveling lo mein into her mouth. It was their first meal of the day. The rest of it flew by in a whirl of excitement and change. Once all the dust had settled and Bill, Tom, Jack, and Marnie had left after a long day of unloading furniture and boxes, they were left alone with the keys and a blank page waiting to be written upon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of watching her that night brought a small smile to his face. She had just pulled her hair down from the messy bun that held it in place all day. Her eyes were tired but still bright despite having been going since early that morning. A lazy smile hung over her lips all night. It could have been all the beer he had been plowing through on an empty stomach, but there was just something effervescent about her. Larger than life. A light in such a bleak and boring existence. He munched on his kung pao chicken as she talked about painting the rooms different colors. How she and Tom had talked about maybe putting together some built in storage into the closets. The prospective idea of throwing a Labor Day party, giving them an entire season to settle into the house before having people over. He could have listened to her talk all day. He could have listened to her talk forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed her out into the cool late April night. Her arms wrapped around herself, pulling his sweatshirt tighter around her body. The moonlight gave off the illusion of silver highlights at the peaks of her curls. Everything felt surreal. He was sure he would wake up in the past, alone in his bed about to roll out and get ready for work before stopping in at Beanies to make eyes at the crabby barista and then leave. But he never did. She turned to face him at the sound of her name. He told himself he would wait just a little while. Let them settle into their new house. Give both of them a second to get back on their feet. But somewhere between the warm feeling in his chest and the six pack of beer he had gone through, he found himself professing his love to her with a ring between his fingers. Even if she said no or that she wasn’t ready, he just had to tell her. He had to give it a shot. His heart felt like it would explode out of his chest when she said yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a lovely home,” a woman’s voice came from beside him, causing him to physically jump. He glanced over to the previously empty passenger seat to find a woman. Long nose and large eyes. Dark hair neatly pinned into a hairstyle that looked terribly outdated. Navy blue dress that was nipped in at the waist and appeared to fall at her knees. She looked like she stepped right out of one of the movies his grandmother would watch on occasion. Young and doe-eyed with a voice like velvet even with its slight tinge of an accent. Certainly not someone who would ever be in his car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cocked a brow as he stared at her with wide eyes. “Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my car?” he managed to sputter out. “How the hell did you end up in my car?” He looked back to his steering wheel and took a deep breath in. “Alright, Paul. Get it together. Get your </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span> together.” Without looking back, he opened his door before making a dash toward the house. There was no need to panic. It had just been a long, anxiety-filled day. He was just tired and seeing things… and also hearing them. He shook his head as his hand wrapped around the door knob. The sound of giggles and squeals came from beyond the door. A relieved smile touched his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed the door open and nearly fell back when he found the same woman leaning up against the banister at the bottom of the stairs. “Jesus </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he gasped, grasping onto the door jamb for support. “How the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you get in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged as she checked the blood red lipstick she wore in a small compact that she promptly snapped shut. Her eyes flicked up to him, and for just a moment, his heart stopped racing in his chest. He felt like this teleporting woman might be someone he knew, which still didn’t explain the teleportation. But the eyes, round and blue as a morning sky, held something familiar. “Well, I don’t think I’d dignify a question like that with any sort of answer,” she responded, pushing off of the banister and crossing the foyer to look at the pictures up on the wall. He pressed the door shut behind him to follow her. “Shoes, Paul.” One red manicured finger jabbed out at him. Of course, the shoes had to come off. What was he thinking? He knelt down to untie his dress shoes before he placed them next to the pile of boots and small sneakers, completely ignoring the click of her white pumps against the wood floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he sidled up next to her, he found her red lips turned up into a small grin. The photo she was looking at was one taken on Bill’s couch. Initially, they were going for a nicely posed picture but it never went that way. Dani was in Emma’s lap with a large grin while she held Emma’s face in her tiny hands. On the other hand, he was looking down at Eli next to him, mid-laugh at the cross-eyed, tongue out face Eli was making. It wasn’t one that he would have seen posted up in the house he grew up in. Too much personality. Not sterile enough. Hairs were out of place. Children were laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached up and pointed at Eli in the picture. “Eli,” she said, almost sounding melancholic. “I like that name.” She glanced over at him with the same sad smile and what almost looked like tears rimming her eyes. In that moment, he felt his heart so heavy in his chest. The way she looked at him was like she was staring through him. A gaze that was millions of miles and decades away. Her hand reached up and rested against his cheek. Warm and reassuring. He closed his eyes, feeling inclined to lean into her touch. The scent of roses and sweet oranges filled his senses. It smelled like summertime. His eyes opened to find her still standing before him, watching him like she was trying to catch up on something. “I’m sorry we never got to say goodbye, sweet boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t really like them much anyway,” he commented, feeling a lump rising in his throat. “You always told us to save the hugs and kisses for the next time we got to say hello.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There were always very negative connotations in goodbye,” she agreed as her hand dropped from his cheek to his chest. A lofty vocabulary as always. “What use is there in being sad if you’ve had a good time up until that point?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he could do was give her a soft smile. Words were escaping him. An overwhelming sense of joy and sadness was weighing on his chest. Like a pile of bricks that would turn to gold if he closed his eyes. “It’s really nice to see you, Gigi,” he whispered. All of him wanted to pull her into a hug, but he knew what this was. Emma talked about dreaming of Jane on a regular basis. Her subconscious would build a memory of her sister that never existed. In this case, his grandmother was there, vibrant and young and full of life. Like he remembered seeing in the few photographs she had from when she was young. “I missed you… and so much stuff has happened! Oh man, I don’t know where I would start. Emma and I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul,” she interjected as her hand found his with a squeeze. “I’ve been there every step of the way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both walked into the kitchen where Eli and Dani were running in circles around the island, screaming and laughing in the midst of whatever game they were playing. They were so small. Grins and giggles. Eli was barely tall enough to reach onto the tall counter of the island. Dani’s hair was pulled into pigtails that were nearly coming undone. Emma was facing the counter, chopping at vegetables with her phone between her ear and shoulder. She was still in her work clothes. A green blouse and dark jeans. She looked over her shoulder with a smile and told whoever she was speaking to that she’d call them back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, big guy. How’d it go today?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she asked. Suddenly, the scene felt so familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced over at Agnes, who was watching Emma wipe her hands off on her pants as she approached him. “I always liked her.” The image of them meeting at Dan’s wedding was still clear in his mind. “There are so many variables in this life, Paul. Everything is constantly shifting with every breath you take, but there are some things, which stay static no matter when you may go or what you may do. I’m glad you’ve found one of them.” Emma stood in front of him, but he was frozen in thought, trying to decipher her words. “This is the part where you tell her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes shifted down to Emma. “I got the job,” he sighed with a laugh. That day she had agreed to pick the kids up from school. He was interviewing for Mr. Davidson’s old job. The merger had gone through, and the acquiring company wanted Mr. Davidson out. They wanted a new face in charge. Someone constant and grounded. Someone who could help them change and grow with the times. When asked to interview for the position, he thought it must have been a joke. When offered the job, he couldn’t believe it. He drove all the way home with bewilderment buzzing through his brain. None of this made sense. He was just Paul who worked as an analyst for most of his adult life. Normal plain white bread Paul was the boss. He pulled into the driveway and pulled out his phone that day. His eyes darted over to Agnes. “I wanted to call you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, her gaze locked on the kids, who were now making a beeline in his direction. “You did,” she concurred with a smile. “You wanted to call me to tell me about the job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted you to be the first to know,” he continued. Everything around them felt like it had come to a halt. Like time had just stopped for a moment. “You always told me I was worth more than where I was, and I thought you would have been… excited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thrilled for you.” She turned to him, her hands reaching up to hold his face again. His body turned to her. All at once, he felt like a little kid and a giant. “You have made yourself into everything you never thought you could be, my sweet Paul.” She pulled him down to her in order to press a kiss against his forehead. His eyes slid shut again. “I am so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand pressed hard into his shoulder, shaking him. “Paul?” Emma’s voice sounded distant. Like she was calling to him from the opposite end of a tunnel. The shaking continued. “Paul, you’ve got to get up.” His eyes snapped open to see a blue light from a TV flashing on the ceiling above him. “Hey, you’re not fucking dead, right?” He rolled his neck off of the back of the couch to look at her. She wore one of his sweatshirts from some CCRP training thing Mr. Davidson had dragged them on. “Oh, thank fuck,” she sighed. “You had me worried there for a second, you old fucking man. Falling asleep watching TV.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What time is it?” he mumbled, moving to push himself up and off of the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quarter after twelve,” she answered as she followed him out of the living room. “You passed out down here after you helped Dani with her math homework.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God,” he grumbled, climbing the stairs. He rubbed a hand over his neck. “My neck’s killing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe you should try going to bed when you’re tired instead of falling asleep on the couch like a jackass.” Her voice grew quiet as they crept down the dark hallway. He could have sworn he still heard music coming from Eli’s bedroom, but he knew that the workload only a month into school was killing him. Dani, however, was snoring lightly from her own bedroom, mumbling something in her sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, har dee har, keep it up, you little shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted, closing their bedroom door behind her. “Stop falling asleep on the couch then, old man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He plopped down onto his side of the bed, rubbing his hands over his eyes beneath his glasses. Opening his eyes, he watched her walk into the bathroom to pick up the clothes she had scattered about the floor. “I had a dream about my grandmother,” he admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She exited the bathroom with a pile of clothes in hand and furrowed brows. “What kind of dream?” she wondered, her voice turning more serious and curious all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was the day I got the new job. When I got home that day, I almost called her,” he told her, watching as she crossed the room to place her clothes in the hamper. He shook his head. “She was dead for ten years, and all I could think about was calling her that day. I just wanted to talk to her. Tell her about it.” She sat down next to him, scooting back on the bed to pull her legs up to sit cross-legged beside him. “It felt kind of real, too. The dream… except she was young. And she wasn’t there that day obviously, but--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanted her to be proud of you,” she finished for him. He looked over his shoulder at him. A sad smile of her own found her face. “I dream about Jane around her birthday a lot. Not anything fucking spectacular. Usually we’re just shooting the shit, but it’s… </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> nice to see her fucking face. Hear her voice. All that good shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea of dreaming about Jane around her birthday struck him as interesting, trying to find the link. He hadn’t dreamed of Agnes before, and it certainly wasn’t her birthday. It was the end of September. Agnes had been born on May fifteenth. He would drink a glass of a nice merlot every year first on her birthday and then… “Oh my god,” he sighed, burying his face into his hands. “It’s been sixteen years </span>
  <em>
    <span>today</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand rubbed against the center of his back. “I know,” Emma responded while pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder. “You were so tired I didn’t want to wake you up, but I drank a glass of wine for my good girl Agnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brought his gaze back up to her. Hair fell in wet waves around her face, leaving drips against the material of his sweatshirt. A softer and older version of the purposefully disagreeable woman who had walked through that same house, terrorizing their realtor. A face he dreamed of often. Sometimes in different worlds and times. Sometimes the past. Sometimes the future. But regardless, she always seemed to be there. Even when it was the terrible suffocating darkness, she was somewhere in the wings where he was desperately trying to reach her. He thought about the words his grandmother spoke in his dreams. “Thanks, Em,” he decided on a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips were on his forehead. A soft and brief kiss. “You got it, nerd,” she replied, stopping for just a moment to look at his face before crawling onto her side of the bed. “I know it’s important to you, and I got to drink some of that niceass wine, which is always a fucking treat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath the blankets, he could have almost sworn he was back to that first night in the house, crawling into their bed in their house with her. Things felt so new and exciting. While there wasn’t much that was new in their lives, there was something that excited him all the way down to his bones just seeing her. Feeling his heart swell when she walked into a room. Hearing her voice when she came in from work and the butterflies rising in his gut in response. The more time he spent with her the more he wondered about the idea of a soulmate and what that would entail. What boxes would one have to check off to have their relationship considered to be such. He considered the words from his dream. About constants and variables. About every choice he had made leading up to that point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned over to face away from him, pulling the blankets up over her shoulder. “Hey, Em.” He reached out to rest a hand on her hip over the blankets. She hummed in response. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes peeked over her blanket covered shoulder. “Pfft, fucking dork,” she scoffed before turning to face the wall again. Despite her words, he found himself smiling. “But yeah, whatever. I love you, too, I guess.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Hold Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emma comes home from work. Paul cooks dinner.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay so this is a little bit of a bummer but it'll get better I promise.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The house was quiet when Emma entered, which was bizarre for a Friday evening. Normally, there were children buzzing about the kitchen and flitting around the hall above the foyer. This evening, though, she could hear a pin drop as she toed off her boots. It felt a little eerie, really. She moved toward the kitchen as she shrugged off her jacket. The kitchen was the only room emanating any sort of sound. The whirring of the dishwasher. The humming of the refrigerator. And the soft crooning of James Mercer and the Shins. Paul had branched out to a slightly more modern group of sad boy music. Between bouts of Morrissey and the Clash, a new string of the Decemberists and Fleet Foxes had weaseled its way into his daily listening between podcasts about gruesome murders and unsolved mysteries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood in front of the stove, bopping his head along to </span>
  <em>
    <span>New Slang</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Lyrics came mumbling out of his mouth, almost harmonizing with the light voices leaving the speaker. A smirk came over her face as she dumped her jacket onto one of the stools before sauntering up behind him. “What’s cooking, good looking?” she hummed in greeting against his shoulder, peering over and into the pan in front of him. A swirl of peppers and tomatoes and pasta and little chunks of chicken. “It smells really fucking good, Papi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grin, he peeked at her over his shoulder. “I’ve been working on my cooking skills, and I think it’s turning out pretty well,” he agreed, though when he turned back to the food the smile lingered and then disappeared from his features. “I hope so at least. Eli didn’t ask for it, but he’s had… a day today. So I thought it might be a nice thing for him to have tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She furrowed her brows. “What happened today to make it such </span>
  <em>
    <span>a day?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she asked with emphasis specifically on the part she knew Paul had quoted from Eli. She hadn’t heard anything from either of them all day, which was odd especially for Eli. He was quick to text her after school got out and bitch about anything and everything that aggravated him. Mostly because she agreed that she would be aggravated by it too. It wasn’t like him to have a bad day and then not want to vent to her about it. The food in the pan suddenly made sense. “Is that--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The cajun chicken pasta? Yeah, he just got home and went up to his room. Nothing else. I went up and tried to talk to him, and that went nowhere. Just a bunch of one-worded answers. He wouldn’t even look at me.” He pursed his lips as he stirred the pasta around aimlessly. His breathing was steady and even. Like he was counting out each second he took in and out. Trying to keep himself from being anxious. “I don’t know--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squeezing his shoulders, she pressed another chaste kiss against his arm. “Time to send in the big guns, I guess,” she replied, leaning into him. For a split second, she considered just staying right there. Just being there with him instead of going and dealing with real life. Pretending for just a moment that they were back in that little house if she closed her eyes. There were moments where she wished she could just escape back to when things were a little less complicated. Though, to be fair, things were always a little complicated. Neither one of them made things completely easy or transparent. She opened her eyes, feeling him tense beneath her touch. “Hey, I’ll get him to talk, so you just focus on your pasta, Chef Boyardee, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she made her way out of the kitchen, she caught just a hint of a smile on his lips. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was because she was going to swoop in and save the day or if he thought her Chef Boyardee joke was as funny as she did. There were nights she would walk upstairs and still expect to find his office and her studio up there. Ready to storm into the office and plop right into his lap and tell him to get his ass off of work. See him sitting on that old couch knee deep in some book that was probably two hundred pages too long. He would smile up at her with those saucer eyes shining. She would melt every single time even when she didn’t want to admit it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that room was no longer an office. It hadn’t been for years. They painted the room yellow because it was bright and happy. Yellow felt hopeful and filled with a buzzing light energy in her mind. She pushed open the door. Eli’s bedroom was green now. A pale sage painted atop the pastel yellow that had once been. It was a calm oasis normally filled with some sort of soft acoustic music she didn’t recognize. He said it helped him concentrate while he studied, which seemed to be all the time since starting with a full honors schedule in high school. Most days, his door would be cracked open, and he would be sitting cross legged at the desk at the far side of the room, nose buried in a textbook as his hand scrawled something almost illegible onto a piece of loose leaf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of a studious Eli, she found him lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling while a singer whined incomprehensible lyrics over a dreamy keyboard. His eyes dragged themselves to her before snapping right back up. “Hey, Mom,” he sighed before running his hands over his face. The majority of times in the day, all people could see in him was her. Snappy and witty and patience of a microscopic size. There were also times where he was nothing but Paul. Agonizing in silence by himself. Working himself to the bone. “I know Dad’s making dinner. I’m not hungry, though, so--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Chef Paul is still down there slaving away, so we’ve got some time.” She crossed the room as she had many times before. Different scenery. A room filled with boxes and empty bookshelves. An office that smelled of coffee, working too late, and overthinking. A nursery that was so bright and open she almost wanted to sleep there herself. Now, to sit beside him on his bed. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pursed his lips. “Nothing,” he muttered. His stare at the ceiling was hard as if he were trying to desperately focus on something that wasn’t there. Trying to distract himself from the conversation at hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cut the shit. What’s going on up in that head of yours, big brain?” Silence hung around them as if they had just gotten drenched in their clothes. Heavy and uncomfortable. It had been a long time since she had minded the quiet moments. Paul was mostly quiet moments. He was constantly making her notice the little things that might go unnoticed in a loud world. Like how each night as she fell asleep, even once they had turned away from one another, his hand always found hers. Fingers gently intertwining with her own. It was something soft and tangible in the quiet of the night. She pushed Eli’s hair away from his forehead and wondered for a moment what it would have been like if they hadn’t chosen to go this route. If they stayed in that tiny house closer to downtown. Just Paul and Emma and their cat. Her heart twisted in the way it usually did when her thoughts wandered in that direction. Tears slid down the sides of Eli’s face despite his best efforts to keep them in. “What’s going on, Eli?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept his lips pressed tightly together, sniffing slightly. Blinking rapidly. Looking anywhere but at her as he put his words together. The second he loosened his face, his chin began to quiver. Brows knit in the center of his forehead. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. “They’re moving,” he answered. No follow up. Nothing but cryptic. A classic Perkins move: just edging open the emotional envelope enough to let someone peek in but not get any details.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s moving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes squeezed shut, his entire face crumpled up. If the situation had been different, she might have laughed. He looked the same as he did when he was a toddler and she had given him a lemon that came out of his mouth just as quickly as it came out. “Linda’s up and fucking moving them out to Colorado, and it’s all my fucking fault,” the words came falling out of his mouth just like that lemon. “Jasper wasn’t in school today, so I called him and then… that stupid fucking bitch answered and told me. And then… I don’t know. I’m just fucking upset, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked. “Just out of nowhere?” was all she could get out as a response. “They’re just leaving like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed his palms against his eyes. “She put him on the phone and… Mom, I think I got fucking dumped,” he mumbled, voice shaking with heavy breaths. “I don’t fucking know. He said they were leaving and he couldn’t see me anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eli--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her like that?” he groaned, voice raising without his hands moving from his face. “How could he just let her do this? If you fucking did that, I’d tell you to go fuck off. What the hell is wrong with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers gently wrapped around his wrist, pulling his one hand away from his face which led to the other falling to his side. His face was blotched with pink and eyes were red and swollen from all the crying. The sight was like looking in the mirror the night before she left for Guatemala. After fighting with Jane. Perfume and glass sprayed across the floor. She had snapped half of the CDs in her collection in half during a tear fueled fit of rage. It wasn’t until she was tearing polaroid photos down from her mirror that she saw her face. She remembered thinking she looked like a monster. All distraught and distorted. One day, she realized she wasn’t a monster. It was just the grief and angst coming to a head. “Scoot,” she whispered. He did as she asked, and she moved to lie flat next to him so they were both staring up at the ceiling. “Do you want me to go find Linda in Colorado and murder her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t do that,” he scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking try me. I’ve hated that bitch since we were little. Wouldn’t take much to go all the way to homicide at this point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A watery chuckle left him. “No, don’t do that,” he answered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well,” she began as she settled in next to him, still dressed in her clothes from work. “Then I’m going to just give you the low down here, kid.” She inhaled deeply in an attempt to think of how she wanted to broach the next topic. “Sometimes people have weird relationships with their parents.” A pause. Memories that she generally liked to keep buried in her mind were sneaking their way back into the forefront. “I mean, Eli, the last thing I ever said to my mom was that I fucking hated her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His attention snapped over to her. “What? Really?” he gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned to meet his eyes. Calm and resigned. “Yeah, really,” she reiterated. “I didn’t see my mom or dad for ten years. I didn’t ever want to see them again, but then my sister died… so I kind of had to come back home. They wouldn’t even look at me, let alone speak to me, and there was this big part of me that didn’t give a shit. There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> a big part that really couldn’t give less of a shit, but I wonder sometimes if I could have made things work with my shitty parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you wouldn’t have gone along with them being absolute bitches about things, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, absolutely fucking not. They didn’t like me very much, and the feeling was mutual. But it was a shitty and weird relationship,” she continued. Another beat of silence passed between them. “Dad, though, might have. His parents I think are worse than mine ever were. They remind me a little bit of Linda. Bossy and shitty and… fucking shiny.” He snorted beside her, and she looked back up at the ceiling with a sad smile. “I think his Dad beat him down into the ground pretty badly. He doesn’t talk too much about it, but the first time he brought me over there, his dad came up behind him and just put his hands on Dad’s shoulders. I swear to god I thought he was going to jump right out of his fucking skin right then and there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he didn’t let them change his mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but we didn’t meet until we were in our thirties, E. He was a little removed at that point. But his parents really aren’t super into what I’ve got going on here. They think I’m some piece of flaming shit that was dropped on their front stoop, but quite frankly they can suck my fucking dick.” She turned to look at him again, finding that his eyes hadn’t left her. “I’m just saying that things can get complicated, and sometimes people have more things going on in their heads than you might think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips pressed together again, eyes welling up. “But things just started,” he whispered. “Now, it’s done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached down to find his hand with her own, squeezing it tightly. “Things are weird, E. Sometimes, the stuff we think is going to be forever is just for a minute, and there’ll be better stuff around the corner.” He nodded, though she was fully aware he wasn’t convinced by her words. His fingers wrapped around hers tighter. “Y’know, me and Dad met back when we were in high school once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes, batting a stray tear away with a free hand. “No shit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes shit,” she replied, a more genuine smile touching her features. “We ended up at the same Halloween party back in 2003.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad went to a party?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because Ted wanted to sleep with Linda’s sister. We were actually at their house I’m pretty sure.” She shrugged. “I don’t know I was wicked fucking drunk. Like hanging out the window chain smoking to try and sober up enough to get home drunk. Almost black out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, Mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, Mom is fucking right. So there I was hanging out the fucking window trying to figure out where I was, and this dude comes up behind me and asks if I’m okay. I couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> see him at first because, y’know, drunk, but he didn’t try to come onto me or anything. He just legit wanted to know if my drunk ass was okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figures Dad would go to a party and go around making sure every drunk person was okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was about to go stumbling out of Linda’s house. I’m pretty sure I knocked a hole straight through that screen, which was okay because she deserved it. But I was about to roll out of there. This idiot, who was dressed up like a dumbass character from a dumbass movie, insisted he walk me home, and you better believe he brought me all the way there. And I was so fucking drunk I was all over the sidewalk. I’m pretty sure he had to basically carry my ass home by the end of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no. He listened to me vent about my fucking parents and shitty friends and how I was about to turn eighteen and no one gave a shit. He wished me a happy birthday, and I don’t know why. That just hit my little drunk heart where it hurt, so I asked him to come up and make the fuck out with me because once I came to enough I realized he was pretty cute in like a gangly nerd kind of way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, you weren’t produced by fucking budding, you little shit. I’ve made out with the man once or twice in the last eighteen years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he do it?” Despite being grossed out by the idea of his parents making out around his age, he was still interested in hearing how the story ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck no he didn’t. Well, he said he was going to. We walked back to my house in the middle of the night. I would have had to sneak him in but only after sneaking back in myself. Before I could even do that, though, I threw up all over his shoes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, I think he still considered it for a second even after that, but he ended up bailing on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That fucking sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. I don’t know. He told me that it would be better for me to get some sleep and then that I was pretty, which no one fucking said to me ever. I was a stupid little asshole. People didn’t like me like that.” She thought about hanging off of that roof, staring down at the person she didn’t realize she’d be spending the better part of her life with. “He said he would probably regret not coming up when he woke up the next morning, wished me another happy birthday, and then walked back to the party to pick up his car. I thought about him a lot after that. I didn’t even know his fucking name, but it didn’t keep me from wondering what could have happened. I went off to Guatemala and thought about that stupid boy dressed up like a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Austin Powers </span>
  </em>
  <span>character for a few years afterwards. Then, as it turns out, that same fucking idiot found his way into my coffee shop every single day for a year and a half before actually being pushed to talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you even know it was Dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we talked about it in the middle of the night once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys are weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, maybe, but the point is, Eli, that sometimes even if things feel like they’re done and gone--like there’s been some kind of missed fucking connection or something--they might not be.” She used her free hand to push the curls out of his eyes. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good things usually come back if you’re meant to have them even if it sucks major donkey dick right now. The people who are meant to stick around always find their way back.” Their eyes met, and in that gaze, she wasn’t sure if she was seeing herself in his eyes or a glimpse of Jane. “If that’s what you think is going on here, maybe hold out a little while.” A glimpse of Jane in the conversations she never got to have with her own son. All the things Jane had missed out on, Emma got to experience when she never thought that was in the cards for her. “But in the meantime, you’re fifteen. Have some fun and try to enjoy yourself, kid. Not everything is so fucking serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just stared at her for a moment, and she wasn’t sure if he was about to cry again or if there was something more he needed to say. Instead, she found him piledriving himself into her chest, clutching onto her like he was a little boy who struggled with nightmares again. She felt him heave against her chest, letting what remained of the tears he had bottled up throughout the day out. Sighing, she ran a hand through his hair, pressing a kiss against the side of his head. “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered into his hair. “It’ll be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded against her. She could feel the droplets soaking through her shirt. “I know,” he murmured into the material of her blouse. “Thank you, Mom.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Stitches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emma and Paul go grocery shopping.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's some flashbacky goodness!</p><p>Also thank you as always to everyone who has read and commented. I love getting to read and respond. I'm just so happy you've all been enjoying :) :) :) (I also will likely reply in the AM because it's a lil late here BUT I WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW I APPRECIATE YOU!!!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Before</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about some apples?” Emma mused to Eli, who was clinging to her side. He was getting bigger and taller as the days went on, becoming more of a little person each and every day. Paul had left them in the produce section as he went on a mission to the deli section with their shopping cart. She crouched down next to Eli as they perused the various fruits around them “What do you think about getting some… apples?” She leaned in and poked at his belly, eliciting a squeal and a toothy grin from him. His head of curls jostled all around as he giggled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his chin tucked into his chest, he responded as he continued to smile, “I like apples.” Bill liked to remind them all the time that the years would just start flying by, and before they knew it, both kids would be out of the house to build their own lives. It wasn’t something she ever put much stock into, seeming more like a mopey sentimental feeling than anything else. Very Bill in its way. However, looking at him standing tall and thinning out after his last growth spurt, she felt an unprecedented pang in her heart. Like she had blinked and missed out on the best part of the movie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you like apples,” she assured him. “What do you think, little dude? Should we get red ones or maybe yellow or--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green!” he bellowed with an open-mouthed grin crossing his face. “Green! Green! Green!” For whatever reason, he had taken to granny smith apples, which confused her greatly. Even she couldn’t get into just eating granny smith apples for fun. They always left her face puckering and mouth feeling a little pinched despite how good they were for baking: a hobby that Paul had picked up to destress on the weekends. His most recent adventure had been apple pie. He liked the way everything was measured, describing it as more of a science than cooking was. The pie was good. Dangerously good. They ate half of it in one day. As he had chopped apples to put into the filling, though, Eli lingered by his side, humming happily as he munched on bits of apple that Paul slipped to him periodically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood with one of the reusable mesh produce bags Hidgens had gotten her one Christmas years earlier as Eli loaded it up with all the apples he deemed fit. He carefully turned each one over, checking for dings or bruised. Each move was calculated and methodical. He wanted to be sure each apple was the best he could find. Very thoughtful and precise. Like when Paul would go about reorganizing things in the house. It wasn’t very often because he liked to keep things static, but there were occasions that called for reorienting. He would go through the pantry and cabinets in the kitchen bi-annually to clear out any food that got pushed to the back and what was expired. Meticulously turning over each item to go into separate piles of what was staying, going, or being donated to the local food pantry. He would spend hours on the one task just to be thorough. Eli continued to carefully reach into the bag to gently place each apple in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma Perkins?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of her name being called startled her, causing Eli to almost drop his final apple too heavily against the others. “Mama,” he scolded with a hand on her arm. “Careful! You’re gonna make ‘em all mushy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced over her shoulder to see who had called her, but only managed to pick up light shiny hair nearly radiating in the fluorescent lights of the produce section. Her focus returned to Eli. “I’m sorry, buddy,” she responded, holding the bag steady to allow him to drop his apple in. While he did so, she looked back again. This time a feeling of dread came over her. The shiny hair was definitely attached to a head she knew all too well. “Do you need something, Linda? Or did someone pull out the Ouija Board and open up a portal to the underworld that you just so happened to wander through?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linda arched a well manicured brow in her direction. Everything was very polished about Linda. Neatly cropped platinum blonde hair pulled back into a slick ponytail. Carefully sculpted brows and lips. Sleek set of matching leggings and zip up. Her lips quirked up into a smirk. “For someone who showed up to high school graduation drunk, talking about how you were going to leave this godforsaken town, you sure seem territorial,” she mused as she turned over a bundle of cilantro on her hand before placing it in her basket. “And I see we’ve settled down in Hatchetfield a little bit, hmm? Or are you just someone’s nanny now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of your fucking business,” Emma snapped back. Her hand rested against Eli’s shoulder, pulling him behind her. “Plus, it’s pretty rich of you to be judging me on anything when you married a plastic surgeon just for the cash and the new nose but are still fucking the same idiot you were in high school.” Linda’s eye twitched. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Got her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a soft tug at her shirt, one of Paul’s she had given a lazy French tuck into her jeans. She glanced down to find a very cross Eli. “Mama, that’s not a nice word,” he warned, holding the bag of apples with both hands in front of him. Big brown eyes narrowed. Tiny freckled nose pinched. “We don’t say not nice words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A part of her relaxed. She hadn’t even realized her entire body had tensed up, but one look at that little face made her feel worlds better. For so many years, she thought that children were some plague people seemed to want to bring upon themselves. And who knows. Maybe her kids were just great, but she felt her opinions on children turning around. “You’re right. I’m sorry, E,” she agreed before turning back to Linda. “Now, if you don’t mind, you absolutely vile succubus, I’m going to continue to shop and try to scrub this interaction from my brain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, don’t let me keep you then. I know it must be payday, and you’re finally able to get to the--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stabbed a finger in Linda’s direction. “Listen, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Linda,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I don’t know what makes you think you can just come around and aggravate people, but I think you better back it up real quick,” she shot back at Linda. Blood rushed to her head. For a moment, she felt like she was back in high school again. In the girls locker room. Listening to Linda off in the corner, snickering about anyone or anything she didn’t deem worthy of her respect. Hearing Jane’s name come out of her mouth. Hearing her own name leave that stupid fucking face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That same laugh lightly left the stupidly glossed lips. A condescending chuckle. “Emma, I don’t know where all this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>hostility </span>
  </em>
  <span>is coming from. I was just trying to make polite conversation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> were the one who started on the defensive, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dear,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Linda replied with that chuckle still lingering in her voice. “Really I just wanted to know what kept you in Hatchetfield. Was it your dead alcoholic sister or your delinquent nephew? But I’m wondering if it’s whoever had the unfortunate one night stand that ended with this charming little creature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind Emma, Eli was peeking around her leg with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. He watched Linda warily, which wasn’t like him. He wasn’t a child who shied away from people. There was a bubbly boisterous nature about him. He wanted to be the center of attention in any room, introducing himself and talking to anyone who would listen to him. The hesitation he showed Linda was enough to make her quietly swell with pride. The boy had sense about him. She felt him lean into her leg. A part of her wished he was one to throw a tantrum when he was bored, so she would have a reason to leave. But there was no luck there. Just a quiet study of Linda was going on behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what, Linda. I don’t need your validation for my life choices because I know I’m doing f...reaking great.” She silently cursed at herself for sounding like such a fucking dweeb. “Sure, I’m back in this stupid town, but it’s not so bad. In fact, the worst part about it is that I have to share a damn zip code with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s really a shame. Your insults were much more interesting back in school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, remember when you got dumped by Gary Goldstein the night before junior prom and then threw up all over Becky Barnes’s dress because you got so fucked up before actually going to prom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Well, I seem to recall you abandoning your entire family, being disowned by your late parents, and allowing your sister to die drunk and alone. Although that last part really surprised me about Jane. That always seemed more your speed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if there were a power above watching over Emma and her fuse that was about ready to blow, Paul came around the corner. In any other situation, she would have doubled over laughing at the sight. He had hopped up on the bottom bar of the cart and was gliding along with his eyes wide and cheeks puffed out, staring down at the little head of chestnut curls sitting before him. A loud belly laugh rang through the air over the sound of quiet radio music. His eyes crossed while the cart slowed. The laugh grew louder. She wished that one of the most awful humans in the world hadn’t been sent by Satan himself to torment her, so she could enjoy the spectacle of fantastic nerdassery happening before her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eli saw him before she had a beat to say anything. “Daddy! Look! Apples!” he hollered. Little legs teetered over, trying to balance himself running with the weight of the apples. “Look! They’re the green ones!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh man, those are the best ones!” Paul responded with just as much enthusiasm, removing one hand from the handle of the cart to wave around for emphasis. He relieved Eli of the weight of the apples to be placed into the cart beside various other items they came in for. Cereal. Milk. Eggs. Apples apparently. Diapers. “Dani girl, look. Who’s that?” He pointed over in Emma’s direction, gaze turning confused as he realized Linda was still standing there as well. The little girl in the cart turned to face Emma. Blue eyes a little reddened and wet still from the upset she had gone through not too long before. A worse for wear teddy bear was clutched against her chest. Paul had taken her across the store, trying to keep her moving through the tears she had produced from not being allowed to have a balloon. A small smile with two little front teeth shined at her before the face was buried into the teddy bear once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked back to Linda as Paul approached them with Eli trotting happily beside him, expecting to find her face dumbfounded, but there was still that same smug fucking look. He opened his mouth to speak again. However, Linda jumped in before he could get a word in edgewise. “You’re Daniel’s brother, right?” she questioned, almost a little disinterested in his existence. “Jack, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul,” he corrected before turning to Emma. “I found bread flour. I thought we could try that ciabatta this weekend. I’m ready to take the plunge into breadmaking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sideways uncomfortable grin on his face made her blood pressure lower immediately. Like the annoyance was quietly melting away. There was something about him that was naturally calming to her. Like fucking whale sounds or a summer storm at night. “Isn’t this just so pleasantly domestic?” Linda commented, voice tilting in a way that made Emma think that she was definitely looking to go on with her musings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without looking back, Emma felt her own smile breaking out as she looked between Paul and Dani, who was grinning at her from behind the bear. “Y’know what, Linda?” She reached forward and planted her hands on top of Eli’s ears. “Maybe it fucking is. I don’t really care what you think. Quite frankly, you can suck my dick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linda looked at Paul with an arched brow. “Are you listening to this--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, bitch,” Emma grunted. “You were talking to me. Not--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Paul interjected, squinting at Linda with one finger pointed out toward her. “Aren’t you the one who accidentally stabbed Ted in the gut?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linda blinked, smugness falling from her features. “I’m sorry?” she replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Emma with a knowing smile and nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re the one,” he continued. “Remember Halloween 2003? I think you were the girl who was trying to show off to Ted by making some kind of fancy cocktail with lemons and stuff in it, but I don’t know. Maybe you were drunk or not. But holy crap, you whipped around holding the knife trying to talk to Ted and straight up stabbed him.” He returned to Emma. “This is what happened after I walked you home. I came back and drove Ted to the ER.” His eyes shifted to Linda. “I think your parents had to pay for his medical bills, too. Tough one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know any </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ted,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Linda insisted as her only response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you do! The guy… with the mustache. He was dressed up like Ali G, and--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling out her phone, Linda let out a stiff laugh. She rested a hand on Emma’s shoulder that was quickly shrugged off. “Would you look at that? Gerald needs me to pick up the boys from his mother’s house,” she explained. “I’d better be off.” Her eyes locked with Emma’s. “I’ll see you around, Em.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma attempted to shake off the slimy feeling Linda calling her Em left in her mouth. “What the hell is her problem?” he muttered as Dani twisted his wedding ring around on his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy! Bad words!” Eli chastised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He furrowed his brows. “Hell isn’t even that bad of a word, Eli,” he shot back, glancing down at Eli. His eyes moved back to Emma, who watched him with eyes now softened. He raised his brows. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” she answered. “You’re just fucking swell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mommy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Eli, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it was the most accurate way I could say that one. Give me a break.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They moved as a unit out of the produce section and moseyed down the aisles to complete their shopping. Quiet discussions about what they could do for meals throughout the week. If there was enough toilet paper back at the house. Whether or not the dishwasher detergent they had been using was leaving a residue on the dishes. Linda had been right. There was something pleasantly domestic in going to the grocery store together. A light intimacy in shopping for the necessities and ever the occasional indulgence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced over at him. “So was that true?” she wondered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He arched a brow while placing a container of chicken into a plastic bag and then into the cart. “Was what true?” he countered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That story. About Linda and Ted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A snort left him. “Oh yeah, absolutely,” he told her. “I got back to the party and was going to tell Ted I was heading home and see if he needed a ride back to his house. There was blood all over the kitchen. Ted was groaning like he had just been mortally wounded. It was pretty superficial, but the ER bill was still crazy. Linda was off in the corner freaking the fuck out thinking she was going to go to jail for accidentally murdering the guy she was flirting with that night. It was a mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I love you, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I made Linda squirm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you’re the best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s about time you realized that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoved his shoulder. “Don’t get used to it, nerd. You know that’s my title.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a smile, he looked forward as he pushed the cart toward the chips and snacks aisle. “Yeah, yeah. I know,” he muttered, but there was no denying the bright grin on either of their faces.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. World Traveler</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul does some baking, Emma goes out with Melissa, and a surprise guest shows up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry these updates are a little sporadic. Work has been pretty crazy lately, and I don't just want to push stuff out. Hopefully the waits are at least a little worth it!</p><p>Also, as always, I APPRECIATE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU FOR COMMENTING. IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY THAT THIS IS BRINGING OTHER PEOPLE JOY. THANK U ALL SO MUCH &lt;3 :'D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Paul, as it turned out, was not terrible at cooking. He did not particularly enjoy it, but he had no problem muscling his way through a recipe. They were always simple dishes. Chicken and veggies or burgers with some fancy toppings. Sometimes he would venture into the realm of spaghetti and meatballs or even mac and cheese. Usually, they would be pretty good. Nothing to write home about, but good nonetheless. The act of cooking, however, wasn’t something he really jumped up to do. If someone else wanted to cook, he was fine to take a backseat. Happy to go along for the ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it came to baking, though, that was a different story. Baking, he had discovered, was more of a science than cooking was. Exact measurements and timings. There was little wiggle room in what could be done with baking, which he liked. Cookies had become methodical for him. Pies were almost therapeutic. Brownies seemed to be second nature. The therapist had suggested finding something creative to do to him. He wasn’t going to be the next Van Gogh or a fashion photographer, but he found something calming in throwing together a cheesecake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned down to peek into the oven at the crumb topping that was beginning to grow golden beneath the light he had switched on. Emma brought home fresh cranberries, which she informed him were currently in season, so he started on a batch of cranberry crumb bars not long after picking Eli up from play rehearsal. Smiles had started to resurface on Eli’s face. A month had passed since Linda up and moved herself and her boys out to Colorado, seemingly out of nowhere. There had been a couple of nights where Paul heard Eli talking quietly on the phone. Tears had been thick in his voice. But the calls had since ceased. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It smells really good, Pop,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he had commented offhandedly as he passed through the kitchen at the beginning of the baking process to grab a slice of sausage and onion pizza. A boy after his own heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The front door squealed open, and the person who entered stood by the door shook their shoes off. Paul glanced at the time as he pulled the bars out of the oven. It was a little early for Emma. She was supposed to be grabbing dinner and drinks with Melissa, which usually turned into a relatively late night affair. “Y’know, I always forget how big this place is, and every time I come back, I’m freaking shocked.” He spun around to face the entrance from the foyer into the kitchen. A surprised smile perched itself on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy crap,” he muttered as he placed the glass baking dish onto the counter. A young man stood in the doorway, a mop of curly dark blonde hair atop his head. Tall and solid. A smirk hung lazily on his lips beneath the substantial beard he had grown since the last time Paul had seen him. Beneath it, there was a jaw that had squared out into a very familiar sharp shape. Paul rounded the corner of the island and moved toward the doorway. “Look at </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Arms wrapped around the man. A sentiment that was quickly returned with a deep chuckle. He smelled like the woods. Like someone who had been out hiking and only seemed to keep the scent of mountain air and trees afterward. Paul moved away to look the young man in the eye. He didn’t have to bed down to do it anymore. There was no tiptoeing around who would be the first person to make eye contact. “What the hell are you doing here, Tim? You weren’t supposed to be home until Thanksgiving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim shrugged with the grin still lingering on his face. “Thought it was about time to come back to some familiar territory,” he explained while adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder. “And Dad was up my ass every time we talked about how he hasn’t seen me in, like, a year.” Tim had gone off to college after graduating high school. Somewhere out in Boston. But he pulled a similar move to his aunt: after a single semester, he felt like it wasn’t for him and just split. There had been some explanation about finding himself and getting to experience the world. Despite his father’s initial misgivings, Tim still returned home every now and again for a month or so at a time with fantastic stories and gifts. At some point, he had started a travel blog. He posted all sorts of photos and videos of his adventures all over the world, and the page took off, making it a viable living for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time he came home, he seemed that much older. The little boy Paul had met years and years ago had bloomed into a man when he wasn’t looking. He smiled at Tim. “Well, it’s a pleasant surprise to see you,” he replied. “Emma’s out still, but I could text her to--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay. I’ll be around for a little while, and I’m actually here to drop something off for her,” Tim assured as he reached into the bag hanging behind him. Like all the nights he would come and stay over to spend some time with Emma, under the guise of giving Tom some time to himself. A waif of a little boy reaching into his backpack to pull out anything and everything to show them. Books that he got from the library to talk about with Paul. Every single cool rock and flower he had picked up around the island to show Emma. He was just a little kid desperately reaching out for someone to just talk to. Tom tried his best after Jane died, but there was always a little piece missing. There was little time Tom spent to treat his son as less than a child. Not allowing him to grow and feel like he was becoming more than just a little boy in his eyes. Paul would never tell Tim, but he was fairly certain Tom was grasping at straws, trying to hold onto a little piece of what was left from before the crash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the bag, Tim produced a small box. Dark green paper with a silver bow neatly tied on top. Paul took it from him and peered at the neat silver handwriting at the corner of the box. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Happy birthday Aunt Emma! Love, Tim and Viv’</span>
  </em>
  <span> “How’s Viv doing?” he wondered, fingers toying with the edges of the bow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vivienne was Tim’s long term partner. They met while Tim was traipsing around the Vosges Mountains during a brief period in France. Tim described meeting Vivienne like getting hit by a bus. He watched her stand bored in the alley behind the restaurant she waitressed at. A cigarette hung from her lips which were painted a deep burgundy. Jet black hair served as a stark contrast to alabaster skin, tinged with pink at her cheeks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Uncle Paul, I swear to fucking Jesus it was like a scene in a shitty romance movie. I just saw her there, and I knew.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> They talked very slowly at first, using translators to communicate back and forth. Late night chats in whichever time zone he was in just to hear about the shitty bookstore she got her second job in. When they finally saw each other again, he had buckled down to learn French in his spare time as a surprise, only to find her speaking in English. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The rest is history, I guess. She’s the fucking man.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viv’s good,” Tim answered, zipping his bag back up. “She’ll probably come in to spend Christmas here with us.” Paul looked up at him, finding those same Perkins eyes staring back at him. Warm caramel brown. Full of curiosity and life. That same shit-eating grin that he had grown to love so much. “I’m going to stick around a little while. I think it’ll make Dad happy.” The smile fell slightly. “It’s tough for him this time of year. Even with Becky around.” As quickly as the happiness wavered from his face, it was back full force. Mischief had re-entered his features. “Plus, I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot. Like, this whole look and whatever the fuck smells like heaven in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim gestured to the apron Paul had forgotten he was wearing. Plain black with a very average print across the chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m not old. I’m just well seasoned.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Oh, right,” he scoffed before pulling it over his head. “Yeah, Eli and Dani went in on this together for Father’s Day… and I realized that baking is far less creative and stressful than I thought it was. Lots of… y’know measuring and stuff.” He shrugged, looking at Tim’s face again. Tim reminded him a lot of Tom. Broad and tall. Blonde shaggy hair. The beard made him look even more like Tom despite clearly having Jane’s eyes and that strong jawline. But the difference he could see in Tim that stood out more than anything was this thirst for life that Tim still had. There was so much he wanted to and intended to do. Something inside of Tom had given up on a lot many years ago. Maybe it wasn’t something he gave up. Maybe he never had it to begin with, and that’s why he eventually resigned himself to a lukewarm joy towards Tim and his endeavors. “I think everyone would be really excited to see you hang around for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snorting, Tim nodded. “I may be crashing on your couch a lot,” he admitted. His face twisted up in displeasure. Paul had to hold back a laugh at how much it reminded him of the same face Emma made at his terrible jokes. “Becky’s just so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” This time, Paul allowed the laugh out. “No, I’m being serious. She’s just too nice, and I want to be nice to her because, y’know, I’m pretty stoked I didn’t get an evil fucking stepmother. But still, it’s a little hard to deal with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mean to tell me we aren’t nice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you can be pretty nice, but Aunt Emma is the raunchiest, meanest bitch I’ve ever met,” Tim explained with a wistful look on his face. As though he were looking back on the times he had spent with her while he grew up. “God, I love her.” He shoved Paul’s shoulder. “You really hit the jackpot, man. My aunt is the best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An image of Tim in high school at an art event was still fresh in Paul’s mind. He hadn’t been back to Hatchetfield High School since the abysmal viewing of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brigadoon </span>
  </em>
  <span>back in 2003, and to his surprise, not much had changed from his vague recollection. Though, perhaps, all high schools just kind of looked the same because the cinderblock halls also reminded him of Sycamore. In the large gymnasium, different stands holding various pieces of artwork by various high school art students. Tim stood beside his display towards the middle of the room, wringing his hands in front of him. The board was filled with photos he had taken throughout the past year. Artful shots. Mostly landscapes and shots in nature. A few had people in them. Tom deep into a woodworking project. Becky resting her face in her hands at the kitchen table. Candid. Quiet. Thoughtful. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Listen, dude, these are so fucking cool,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Emma had commented as she glanced over the shots. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Your mom would be so excited that you’re into photography. She used to love taking pictures.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The look on his face was one of relief and a little bit of awe. Being compared to his mother he thought about everyday. Being praised in a real up front way by someone he looked up to. He hugged her so tightly after that he almost knocked the wind out of her. After the initial shock of the embrace, Emma returned his hug, pulling him down to whisper something in his ear that sent a choked laugh out of him as he forced back a set of fresh tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll be glad to see you, Tim,” Paul told him honestly. She would be. She was going to be so excited to get some quality time with her favorite world traveler. Talk with him about all his adventures. Live vicariously through him. Go through all the pictures she had seen a million times over but still wanted to see again and again. Sitting together like they used to on the old couch in that little house close to downtown as he told her about how much he hated math class and how there was a weird girl who talked to a spider in social studies class. “She really will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I will, too,” Tim agreed with a smaller less mischievous smile on his lips. “She’s going to shit her pants when she finds out I’ll be around a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, Paul was disappointed to find him dissipating the heartfelt moment he was trying to create between them, but all at once, he realized that it was just par for course. This wasn’t just anyone visiting family for the first time in months. This was Tim. A Perkins by blood. A lot like Emma in his ways. There was no time to dwell outwardly in sentimentality. Paul sighed, a chuckle lingering on his breath. “Yeah, she’s totally going to shit her pants.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Firsts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The aftermath of the rehearsal dinner pop off.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Can't wait to write more of this so we can have a ~*f i g h t  s c e n e*~</p><p>As always, I'm so happy you guys are continuing to enjoy this lil journey. Thank you all so much for reading along here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>A Number of Years Later</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t even the day of the wedding and everything was a disaster. Between whatever blow out had happened between Eli and his future mother-in-law was about to the total nightmare of a rehearsal. The tension had started to build the second they were all outside being instructed on where they needed to walk and what they needed to do. Eli had been standing at the edge of the aisle chewing at the skin on the side of his thumb as that same wench went about trying to direct the entire show as if it were her own wedding. Stepping in to guide people to where she believed they should be. All the while, snide remark after snide fucking remark left her mouth. Directed towards him. His family. The entire fucking relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t him who initiated the outburst. It was the sweet and level headed half of the partnership. Always even keel while he went off on every possible tangent. Quiet and thoughtful in all the best ways to his boisterous and magnetic personality. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You need to cut the shit and sit down, Mom.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The words left the room so silent that a pin drop would feel ear shattering. They had been said in a cool and distant way that sent a chill running down his spine. Nothing good ever came from that tone. It was usually the precursor to an absolute meltdown. Like the split second of hissing after opening up a bottle of soda that had been shaken before the explosion of sticky sugary liquid everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they walked off to the side, everyone assumed the matter would be handled privately, but then the shouting began. There was no privacy left to be had with their arguing finally coming to a head. Insults and hollers flew back and forth between them. He moved to walk over toward him until Emma reached to grab him by the elbow as though to tell him this wasn’t his battle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I fucking hate you!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A shriek. One that was a long time coming. A kettle left boiling on the stove until it was blackened with an irreversible char. If everyone had simultaneously come to hold their breath, no one would have been shocked. The intensity had left a thick hold on the room. He felt like he could throw up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the crack of skin on skin. Fingers grasped roughly at a clean shaven chin, yanking down to a short eye level. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You will not embarrass me like this. Remember who’s paying for all this.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Angry red skin where the hand had made contact. A look of complete bewilderment. Unsure of what was supposed to happen next. Matching golden brown eyes stared each other down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You know that this is all some kind of… </span>
  </em>
  <span>spectacle</span>
  <em>
    <span> anyway. I remember that girl. Olivia, was it? I remember the looks you gave her, yet here we are… doing </span>
  </em>
  <span>this </span>
  <em>
    <span>with </span>
  </em>
  <span>them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma didn’t really know where Linda got off with implying that her family was as good as garbage. It wasn’t like they had come from different backgrounds. They had grown up almost in the same neighborhood. Just a couple of blocks away from one another in the same sort of moderately sized suburban cookie cutter homes. Effectively, they were cut from the same cloth. There were such pinpointed similarities between them. Ignored or loathed by their parents. Never quite living up to the potential of their older sisters. Big wild dreams of getting off the island. Horribly angry and discontent for most of their respective lives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought about that anger as she sat between Eli and Paul. Her nails ran up and down Eli’s back in an attempt to comfort his pure rage that was still lingering. The idea of hating Hatchetfield felt a little foreign to her. More like reading a language that she only knew the basics of. She understood it still, but so many of the reasons she hated the city no longer had meaning to her. Before, she felt like there was no reason for her to stay. There wouldn’t be anyone who missed her. She could have disappeared and no one would have been the wiser. Now, the reasons to stick around were too many to even count. She glanced at Paul over Eli’s back. His eyes drifted up to hers, and he gave a tight, small smile to her. Even in the bad times, it was still worth sticking around, she had decided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A clanging of glasses from within the room where people had begun milling about again sent all three of their heads flying in the direction of the sound. None of them were in there, and Dani wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet to start making toasts. They all were fearing the worst. “Excuse me, everyone,” a voice cut through the lull of chatter. One they hadn’t anticipated making the toast. “Okay, yeah, hi. Well, I’d like to thank you all for being here to celebrate with us on behalf of both Eli and myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all pushed their way back into the room, moving around guests to get a better view. “I know it’s a little unconventional for me to be giving a speech, but tonight’s already been… so weird. This might as well happen, right?” A light chuckle fell over the room. She glanced over to Eli, who was watching the person he had referred to her as the light of his life speak. “I just thought you all might like a brief history lesson here to break up the tension a little.” Another murmur of laughter. Whether it was one out of discomfort or genuine levity was to be determined. “Elijah Matthews and I met when we were nine. I was sitting all by myself in Mrs. Chastity’s class during one day we had free time to just… do what nine year olds do, I guess?” She watched eyes lock onto Eli. “He came over to me with his hands on his hips and asked me why I was sitting there all sad when I could be using the smelly markers because no one else was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Papi, I met a boy today with a sad face and yellow hair.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Paul could clearly recall Eli sitting in the back seat of his car with his legs pulled up to his chest, staring out the window. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I asked him why he was so sad, but he said he wasn’t sad he was just shy. So I told him he should draw with the smelly markers with me, and he did. Then his face wasn’t so sad anymore. I told him I would be his friend, so he didn’t have to look so sad anymore. I also like his yellow hair, so I told him that. He said it wasn’t called yellow, but I don’t remember what he called it so I’m just going to call it yellow.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He looked to Eli, whose jaw had loosened from the tense clench it had been holding before. This time, he could have sworn that it was Eli’s eyes that were sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eli has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. He’s been the greatest constant in my life, which has been pretty rocky honestly, so having this one thing I’ve been lucky enough to keep me grounded has been… really good.” Teeth peeked out in a smile, a bright contrast from the dark beard. Paul’s heart could have melted just as easily as it did when the same grin was staring up at him with missing teeth and a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘cheeeeeese’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I think it’s really important to find someone you really like being around. Someone who makes you better and pushes you to do the things you might not do otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could remember the first time Jasper walked into their house. Small and bespectacled. Nervous energy radiated off of him as Eli dragged him all over the house. Introducing him to their very old cats. Showing him around the backyard and the upstairs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And this is where my mom and dad sleep, but we don’t go in there. Sometimes they get mad if you just walk in without asking first or knocking.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Despite having spent so much time in the house, there was a moment so many years later, where he seemed to have reverted back into that same little boy. Nervous and twitchy. Not knowing what to do with anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He took care of me even when he shouldn’t have…” Words trailed off into nothingness. A pink rose to Jasper’s cheeks as if he were trying to hold back tears. Like any moment he was put on the spot and had to speak on any subject. “He never gave up on me.” Late night conversations had started again when Eli started college. Quiet chatting that went late into the night. Paul had just assumed Eli was keeping someone from them until he got his footing in something serious, but he had been sorely mistaken. “He was my first real friend. My first kiss. He was the first person I tried hot sauce on popcorn with, which was an absolute game changer.” Eli’s laugh rang out above the general laughter of the crowd. His eyes had yet to move away from Jasper. “He was my first love, and he’ll be the last person I love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s given me a home wherever I go and a family I can count on.” Jasper’s gaze shifted. “Paul and Emma, you’ve always been so gracious and kind to me. There was never a second thought about accepting me into your family, and I’ve never really expressed how grateful I’ve been for that. So, thank you.” A soft smile touched her lips as she nodded in his direction. “Also for this dinner. It’s a little fancy, which I’m sorry about, but the point still stands.” A smirk crossed his face when she was unable to hold back a snort. “And finally, thank you for allowing me the opportunity to know your son. He makes my life the best it can be everyday, so thank you… for, y’know, birthing him?” Another snort from Emma. “I promise to be my best self because he only deserves nothing but the best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reality hadn’t truly hit either Paul or Emma until that moment. That boy who was once a small ball of frenetic energy and curls buzzing around their backyard was now a grown man who was getting married within the next twenty four hours. A grown man who had found his way in the world. Who built himself up as his own person. Somewhere along the line, they had let go of his hand to allow him to run all by himself. It seemed like it had only been a few months before that they were sitting up in the middle of the night counting his ten pink fingers and toes as he snoozed away in his bassinet. A lump rose in her throat, and she cursed it back down. She was not about to cry in front of Linda fucking Monroe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jasper looked back to Eli. This time around, his eyes were definitely rimmed with a small layer of tears. “E, I don’t think there are enough words,” he started before shaking his head, deciding it was better to try and save his words. “Baby, I love you, and I’m going to marry the shit out of you tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking kiss him!” Dani shouted from somewhere in the crowd. Right on schedule with the drinks Emma had left her with when she went to check on Eli and Paul. It was only a matter of time before there was an outburst from her as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eli moved through the group of people with ease. Graceful and light on his feet. Reaching Jasper, he hesitated a moment. It was like looking at those two young boys, dancing around feelings that had been blossoming. Stealing glances at each other, not being quite as slick as they thought they were. Hands unsure as they grasped onto one another. His words weren’t audible except to Jasper, but Paul was fairly certain he could make out </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you”</span>
  </em>
  <span> before he pulled him into a soft kiss. Gentle and filled with a quiet emotion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s hand rested gently on Paul’s back. When he looked down to her, he saw her face twisted up in a mix of feelings. A bittersweet concoction clouded her features. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe this was the same person who didn’t want anything more than a quick bang on the couch. The same person who only took on the title of girlfriend, so it wouldn’t be weird if she had to get drunk and fight his dad. The same person who was so terrified to get attached that she wouldn’t let him tell her he loved her. He leaned down and pressed a kiss into her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and just a heads up,” Jasper piped up again with his arm around Eli’s back. Eli gazed down at him with a look that Paul recognized all too well. “If you’re only here out of some weird obligation to my mother, please don’t bother showing up tomorrow. Thanks.” With that, he snatched up Eli’s hand and made a dash for the door. Excited nervous smiles hit both of their faces like they always did when they would go running around the backyard as a couple of “adventurers” to discover new worlds. If it didn’t touch her heart enough to just see them still as excited to be around each other as they were as children, the slack jawed Linda across the room was filling her belly with glee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh man, tomorrow’s going to be interesting,” Paul muttered, though the smile still lingered on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, leaning into his side. “Yeah, I think I’ll finally get to break her dumb plastic fucking face.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul and Emma are up in the middle of the night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this took a few days to get this bad boy out! I will reply to comments on the last one soon! :D I hope you're all staying safe and well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sometimes the dreams came to Paul in less terrifying ways than others. While most times he found himself in that dark and dank place there was nothing but despair, there were other moments where it was simply a sense of sadness. Nothing was anxiously gripping at him, seemingly trying to keep him in that space for a dismal eternity. No, there were occasions where the darkness was just vaguely upsetting. Laced with this deep grief. A flavor of sorrow he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps it was loneliness. A sort of soul crushing loneliness that he could vaguely remember feeling so many years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It always began in the black. The kind of suffocating darkness that comes with a night terror. At least that’s what he was told as a child, although he was fairly certain that night terrors were supposed to leave themselves in childhood, yet there he was in the darkness that wrapped around his head like a wet blanket. Some sort of quiet dripping and pattering seemed to be coming from the distance. As if it were raining while a gently leaky faucet dropped into a sink full of water. He twisted his ring around his finger. A reminder that he was still him and living the life he had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing himself off the wet ground, he sat up in the black. His eyes darted around for a sign of anything. Lights flashing. Voices to be heard. He decided that the most nerve wracking part of the dreams was the anticipation. The period of time he spent by himself in the pitch black wondering what sorts of terror awaited him when a light finally turned on. What sort of things he would see once vision returned to him. Most of the images were familiar to him now. There wasn’t much he could do to change them even if they terrified him. They were going to be shown to him either way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul?” A hand touched his shoulder. He looked behind him, half expecting to find the young woman with the gold in her eyes standing there, but it wasn’t her. It was a woman, though. Older. Closer in age to him, though maybe a little younger. There was something about her that was familiar even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on who she was upon looking at her. She was small framed with a mass of dark curly hair streaked with grey. Warm eyes stared down at him, and her hand refused to move from his shoulder. Delicate nose. Sharp jaw. Eyebrows that seemed to constantly be arched skeptically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes. “Jane?” he guessed. It had to be. She looked like Emma a bit. There were clear differences between the two. Jane was a touch taller with a set of deeper set eyes and what seemed to be a permanent frown perched on her thin lips. There had only been one other time she visited him. Just before they found out Emma was pregnant with Eli. A premonition sort of dream. In their own house with an image of their potential child. He watched her look on at this fictional version of her little sister with such fondness. His heart hurt to watch her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, however, she was looking down at him with eyes filled to the brim with concern. They were the same eyes Emma had. Warm, syrupy brown. “You should get up,” she stated simply, finally removing her hand from his shoulder to offer it up to help hoist him to his feet. He took the hand that felt almost real in his own. Cool and smooth and small like Emma’s was on a cold autumn night or after a late night shower. There was a strangely comforting feeling that came over him seeing her there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked but with little regard to which direction they were going in. That was what he figured at least. He couldn’t see a goddamn thing in the dark. She, on the other hand, seemed to glow in the swallowing black. Like a speck of light poking through a blindfold. “What are you doing here?” he asked, trying to shake the ethereal look she had about her. A part of him scolded himself for even playing into the notion that this dream could even be real in the slightest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without looking to him, she responded, “I could be asking you the same thing.” Stopping for a moment, she narrowed her eyes this time as if she were deciding which direction she should be going in. “But I won’t because this is just a dream, right?” His heart seemed to stop in his chest , feeling like she could have potentially been reading his mine. She rolled her eyes. “Paul, I’m not reading your mind. I think you know where you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I absolutely don’t know where I am, and what would give you even the slightest idea that I would?” he shot back, barking a little more than he had intended. Even though this could not have even been a little bit real, he still felt like he should be trying to impress this woman. His dead sister-in-law. The one person in the world who Emma seemed to revere more than anyone else. Despite wanting to continue with his indignation, his innate need for her to be okay with him overrode any sass that was trying to rise up in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted in lieu of an initial response. Emma liked to tell him about how Jane was far different from how she was. Warm and gentle and kind, but from his limited experience with this Jane that didn’t exist, he didn’t find the same to be true. She hadn’t ever been rude or cross with him, but Jane never read as anything akin to warm. There was a piece of her that was very cool and indifferent towards him as if he hadn’t proved himself as being worthy of something he couldn’t place. “You know,” she answered simply. “It’s been a while, but you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That familiar crash came shattering through the darkness, sending him to throw his gaze over his shoulder. A scene had illuminated itself in the distance, and it felt panicked… and depressing. He didn’t know what to think really. Some of the people he knew. Others he didn’t. The one thing he knew for sure is that he could see himself standing there, shoulders sagging as he stood behind Emma. There was muffled idle chatter about a dark entity and the potential of a third world war. She stood there intently listening to her brother-in-law as he spoke to the growing group of people around him. Ted. Becky. The girl who used to work at the Toy Zone in Lakeside. That mall security guard that Emma said she was pretty sure she went to high school with. Tom looked down at his watching. Paul could just barely make out that he was saying something about Black Friday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What caught him most was the look of utter defeat in his own face. Much younger than he was now, but still very much his own features. A deep set frown had formed on his face. Eyes seemed to be filling with tears as they gazed down at Emma. There were no rings or smile lines from years of laughing. Just younger faces looking more lost than ever. His fingers squeezed her shoulders while Tom initiated some sort of countdown. Her face was twisted in some sort of confused grief. Like she had just figured something out only to immediately not understand again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘One’</span>
  </em>
  <span> left Tom’s lips. Each and every set of eyes dragged upward. A mixture of dread and horror crossed every face. Mr. Davidson. Charlotte. Gary Goldstein. His own eyebrows just about hit his hairline with the shock that was taking over this version of himself. She reached her hand up to grab onto one of his while they all winced at the bright white light that washed out the image completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another light crashed to life right beside where the group had just vanished. He stood at the center of what appeared to be a stage. He was dressed in the usual black slacks, white button down, and black tie get up he would normally wear to work. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. The tie was loosened from his neck. Flecks of blood smattered along his jaw and the collar of his shirt. Blue stains were littered all about his button down. He looked like a damn mess. Sweaty and dirty and tired. And… did he have a belt of </span>
  <em>
    <span>grenades</span>
  </em>
  <span> around his torso. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>People snaked out onto the stage around him, and he could just about feel the panic this version of himself was feeling in that moment. Hopeless and helpless. But he watched his shoulders square out anyway. As if there were something more that was keeping him upright. Like he was on some sort of demented mission. He squinted, trying to determine where he could have possibly been. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Starlight</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It had to be the old theater. Alice was in a production of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Annie</span>
  </em>
  <span> there years and years ago. The theater held no particularly strong memories for him. He had gone to a few old movie screenings there as a teenager. Films starring Bette Davis and Clark Gable. Nothing but fleeting thoughts of sitting there by himself while others sat in their groups and pairs to view the movies. The town tore the building down a couple of years ago. It had gone into a state of disrepair after its old own mysteriously vanished. No one else was willing to come forward and take responsibility; thus, a piece of old historic Hatchetfield came crashing to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hidgens and that piece of shit Greenpeace girl that used to harass him on his way to and from Beanies were moving around him like sharks around their prey. The words that left his mouth were barely audible, but he could just decipher them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It doesn’t matter what I want.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> His voice wasn’t strong or sure, but not because he didn’t mean what he said. No, he just didn’t fully know what he wanted. He ventured a guess that he was back at the time where he and Emma would have just met. When he was simply drifting through his life on autopilot each and every day. Listless. Hopeless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike the last image, where everything was absorbed into a blinding white light, as his panicked eyes flicked around the stage to each person, blue was seeping over the edges. Crossing the old wooden stage. Over the shoes and legs of the people who appeared to be singing some ominous tune at him. His limbs seemed to be out of his control. Demented dance moves came from his body to a rhythm he couldn’t quite understand. He hobbled toward what looked like an enormous rock at the back of the stage clutching at his gut. The blue continued oozing over everything. Bill and Nora were completely covered in it, only their general outlines still showing up. The goo crept up his own legs, twisting and turning like a crawling vine. Over his back. His head. His arms. At last, the blue substance closed around his chest as he spun around with his arms spread wide in the air, leaving only a thick hum in the black while they were absorbed into the shadows once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jane, what the hell is going on here?” he questioned, eyes shooting around the area for another vision of another funhouse mirror version of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The universe is full of endless possibilities,” Jane explained as she looped her arm in his. “We’re just the pieces in the universe’s fucked up game of chess, Paul. Some of us are just pawns. Utilized only to further some shitty narrative. Faceless. Nameless. Fucked up, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” he answered, unfortunately coming out as more of a question than the statement he wanted it to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and I are different, though,” she continued as she guided them through the darkness. “In each story, we always play a part. Maybe not a big one, but we’re there. We’ve always been there. And we always will be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked. “What does that </span>
  <em>
    <span>even</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean?” he shot back immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see things a little differently.” More crashes. All around them figures popped up illuminated by spotlights of some sort. Some faces he recognized even if vaguely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that… Becky… and Linda Monroe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hatchetfield is a weird place, Paul, but you already knew that.” He did. Even after each and every terrible association he had with the town, he still found himself drawn to it. Loving his hometown. Feeling that it was one of the greatest in the world. “Each and every person in a cog in the fucked up machine here, but some parts tend to be replaceable. These ones, though, are the foundation, which sounds a lot more special than it is. It fucking sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had to be over a dozen people who had popped up around the room, which, going with Jane’s theory, made sense. Hatchetfield was a small city. It would need a relatively sturdy foundation. His eyes landed on one person in particular. “Emma.” Her name left his mouth less like a question and more like a sigh of relief. He dragged Jane towards her. Her hair was piled on top of her head as she yammered on at some unseen person. Bright eyes. Lazy smirk. She wore his red sweater. The same one he saw himself wearing as Tom talked about Black Friday. He felt so relieved to see her he could have cried on the spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two just can’t seem to stay away from each other,” Jane noted, watching the image of her sister with fondness in her eyes. A look that was even a little melancholic. Like she was stuck inside while everyone else got to go out and play. “They’ve told me here that it’s likely you two are just two different parts of the same flame. Always drawn back to each other. Even when things go badly. Everything just seems to reset.” If he could have reached out and touched Emma, he would have. Just the comforting contact with her would have made this all a little more bearable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about everyone else here?” he wondered, glancing over at Jane. His eyes caught sight of something just beyond her he was nervous to approach. The pounding in his chest made it a little difficult for him to even hear his own thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all see things for more than what they are. We’re… constants of sorts. Everyone else is just--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A variable,” he finished for her, moving toward what he saw beyond Jane. Long limbed and doe eyed. Hair pulled back into a long ponytail. Slight pout on full pink lips. “Dani,” he whispered as if this projection of her. Just a little girl when he had gone in to say goodnight to her before falling asleep himself, she stood as a young woman with less fear in her eyes. Looking certain and determined. A whimsical combination of his features and Emma’s personality in that moment. He looked to Jane. “She’s a…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a certain way, yeah,” she replied. “There are a lot of times where things are terrible, just like there are times where things are so fucking good. When you two end up together.” She gestured over to Emma. “There will always be a Daniela, and she sees far and wide.” She tilted her head to the side to observe long and lean Dani a little better. “It’s hard for her like it was hard for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My issues were caused by my parents and--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I didn’t say this had anything to do with that,” she interjected with an arched brow. “That’s all you, bud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another blink. He shook his head, not wanting to think about what childhood memories he was likely repressing. “What about Eli?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed heavily. “Eli is special,” she explained, her fingers reaching out to twirl a lock of Dani’s hair around them. “He’s a really great kid. Full of life and smart as hell.” She looked up at him, the apology already lacing her features. “But this is the only time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you only saw her in the dreams,” she explained, only to receive a confused look from him. “Those were just snapshots from different times happening simultaneously, and she was there with you both.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand reached out despite his better judgment telling him not to. Fingers brushed against Dani’s cheek. The projection of her looked directly at him. Initially, she appeared confused and a little angry before their eyes caught. A smile melted onto her face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hi, Daddy,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she greeted, though her voice sounded like it was miles away underwater. A sad smile of his own came over his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim isn’t constant either,” Jane told him, eyes cast downward. “I only get him a few times, but I die every time before I get to even really know him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Jane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waved him off. “What’s done is done,” she responded with a shrug. “You guys have--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Catalyst. Martyr.” They both turned around to be face to face with the young woman. The girl who had visited him periodically for years. With the golden eyes and anxious face. “You’re both here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane groaned. “Hannah, you’ve got to--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oracle. No names. He’s watching.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, this is just his dream and--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a dream,” the girl--Hannah he supposed--argued, eyebrows furrowing with frustration. “You know that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel his heart beating in his throat. Anxiety was looming over him, threatening to block his vision completely. Spots of dark and bright colors alike clouded his eyes. It was like his freshman year of college when he had been cramming for a statistics final. Everything just hit him all at once and he just powered down. So much information he went and overloaded. “I think it would be best to just let the boy rest,” a voice suggested, familiar and comforting. His vision blurred but another woman approached him, barely visible in the dark. A cool hand touched his face. “He doesn’t need any other reason to have trouble sleeping.” Her other hand moved so that an index finger and thumb were gently pushing his eyes shut. A glimmer of red nail polish caught his eye just before it closed. “Sleep well, Paul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice continued repeating his name even after the pressure on his lids released. Over and over again growing distant for a moment and then warping into something loud. Panicked even. “Paul!” A low shout this time. His heavy eyes opened to find himself in the dark again. Not the swallowing nothingness kind of darkness from before. Just the kind that wrapped the world up at the end of a long day. “Paul, hey!” A hand moved from his cheek where the last woman had been holding him. He blinked, willing his eyes to focus in the dark. “Hey, you with me there, big guy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, who the fuck else would be in your bed at four AM?” He threw himself up at her, arms wrapping around her back to hold her close to his chest. An involuntary gasp left her. “Okay? You alright?” Her hand simply patted his back at first, unsure of how else to respond, but she returned his embrace after his grip tightened. “You were flopping around like a fucking fish and grinding your teeth something terrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He buried his face in her neck, one hand lifting to the back of her head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You having those dreams again?” she whispered as she ran a hand through his hair, having settled into the surprise hug. Considering the question, he nodded at first and then hummed noncommittally, as if to say he wasn’t sure what the dream was about. She pressed a kiss into his hair. “Is there anything I can do for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling away just enough to look at her, he could barely make out her features in the darkness, but it didn’t matter. Every line and freckle was clear in his mind. He knew her like the back of his hand. Like the lyrics to his favorite song. Her lips felt like home when he kissed them. Safe and soft even if he was a little desperate in that specific moment. There was something in him that, even after all these years, was still terrified that this was all some elaborate coma dream he would wake up from at any moment. He held her face in his hands still so afraid that if he pressed too hard he would break something. “Promise me you’ll come back for me,” he whispered, knocking his forehead against hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come back for you?” she repeated with a surprised chuckle. Her hand rested atop one of his. “What the fuck are you talking about, Paul?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we wake up and all of this is gone,” he expanded. His heart continued to hammer in his chest. If there were different paths, who was to say he wouldn’t wake up one day in one of those universes. Cold and alone. Depressed with not a single soul to open up to. “Promise me you’ll come find me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Paul, that’s kind of--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma, promise me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tone in his voice increased in its desperation. As though he needed to hear the words from her, and in that moment, he very much did need to hear it. Her hand moved to rest on his cheek again. “Okay, yeah,” she conceded, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Yeah, I promise, alright?” His breathing steadied a little, but he could tell he was shaking. It was obvious she knew he was as well. He cursed himself silently for getting so worked up. “Hey, look at me.” There was no one else he would ever look at. “I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only way you’re getting out of this is in a box. ‘Til death do us part, buddy boy.” A soft laugh finally escaped his lungs. She was good for that. Making him laugh even in moments like this where he felt so small. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Paul. I really fucking do, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too, Em.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and lowered both of them so they were laying down. He could hear her heart beating gently against her chest. A constant reminder that she very much was still there. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Morning Coffee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emma and Paul have a four day weekend to themselves.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just had to get this little silly thing out. Plotless fluff. Enjoy!! :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was going to be the first weekend they spent alone in god only knows how long. Eli was off to have a movie marathon with the professor. There would likely be days that followed filled with hummed musical tunes as they flowed in and out of his head periodically. Dani, on the other hand, was going to be scooped up by Alice and Deb to have a girls weekend. What that really meant was hours spent in a bookstore and then too much pizza for every meal. Needless to say, the kids were going to come home on Monday afternoon wound up with stomach aches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul tapped his finger on the countertop in front of the sink in the kitchen, staring out at the backyard. A solid layer of snow laid across the ground. Soft and undisturbed leading up to the pond. He lifted his coffee mug to his lips. A mug that had made its way up from its hiding spot in the basement. Two stick figures in a compromising, doggy-style-esque position with a small red heart between them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re my favorite thing to do.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A gift from Emma at some point in time. Years ago. He couldn’t even remember when she gave it to him. Just that it made him chuckle when he looked at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, Papi,” she muttered, scooting her way underneath the arm that wasn’t holding his coffee. He glanced down at her. Her hair was down and wild. Like it normally was first thing in the morning. Especially if she was up before eight AM, which she was. Dark and full and curly. She wasn’t too keen on wearing it down on a regular basis. It was much easier to manage when she just threw it up in a clip. But there were occasions he was pretty sure she wore it down solely because he liked it. The morning, however, was not one of those times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered her tumbling out of his bed after the first night she stayed over. Desperately running around his bedroom shirtless trying to find her bra. Hair going in every direction. He hadn’t seen it down until the night before. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Quit fucking ogling me and help, big dick Paul. I have to get to work on time otherwise Nora is actually going to fucking murder me.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He tried to argue that he wasn’t ogling her, but it was to no avail. Between the two of them, they managed to gather all of her clothes, and he followed her downstairs, where she pulled an apple out of his refrigerator to bring with her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Payment for the goodass time I showed you last night, huh?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> His stomach flipped when she winked at him. She marched right over to him and pulled him down to her lips by the collar of his shirt. A smirk pressed against his lips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Have a good day, champ. You busy tonight?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He sputtered out that he was not. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, you will be now.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Before she had the chance to move away from him, he found his hand buried in her hair to crush their lips together once more. She would eventually mark this as the first time he had really taken initiative in the relationship and how much she liked that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Keep that up, and we’re just going to end up back in that fucking bed.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand ran from between her shoulder blades to rest on the small of her back. “Kids are off to school,” he told her, taking another sip of his coffee. “Alice texted me saying that she’s all good to pick Dani up, and Eli and Hidgens have been going back and forth for weeks about this. So we should be all good on that front.” His index finger tapped against the side of his mug as his eyes drifted back to the yard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mug was pulled from his hand. He looked back down with eyebrows raised. She grinned up at him with the rim of the mug pressed against her lower lip. “Stop being so uptight, Paul,” she insisted before taking a quick sip of his coffee. Her face twisted when the strong extra dark black coffee hit her tongue. She handed the coffee back to him. “Jesus Christ, no wonder you have trouble sleeping. Just one fucking cup of that will have you going for an entire fucking week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen,” he muttered, lifting the cup back up to his mouth. “I ran on shitty Beanies coffee for over a year. I’m pretty sure that made me work in slow motion for an entire week after every cup, so I’ve got some time to make up for.” He grinned into his coffee when she barked out a laugh. “What’re you even doing up? It’s a little early for Emma to be up and dealing with people on her day off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m apparently only up this early to have my coffee brewing skills questioned,” she shot back, curling into his side to wrap an arm around his middle. “I put my spit in there just for you. You got a little glimpse into what it was going to be like to make out with me before you even had the fucking nerve to talk to me.” He groaned as he took another sip. “But I also might be awake because I feel like I don’t get that much time with you these days, and I was hoping to persuade you back to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He arched a brow. “Oh yeah?” he hummed, placing his mug on the counter. Her chin rested in the middle of his chest. A mischievous grin beamed up at him. The smile got him each and every time. Threw him straight into whatever she wanted from him. To be fair, though, there wasn’t too much he wouldn’t just do so long as it was with her. “I thought the spit was for the shitty stupid customers because you and Zoey hated them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you so you could make out with me without having to actually make out with me,” she added. “You were such a poor sap who very clearly wanted to fuck me.” He could feel his face growing pink. “It was the least I could do for you. I liked to think of it as charity work at the time. I was doing the lord’s work there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face pinched in disgust. “You’re gross.” All he got was that same shit-eating grin. “What?” Her arms tightened around him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He couldn’t deny the smile that had crept its way over his face. She tended to have that effect on him. Even when things were terrible or he was anxious out the wazoo, she was always there putting even the tiniest of smiles on his face. When things were still new, she easily fooled him many times over into a better feeling. Less uptight evenings. Less shitty days. Things were better when she was around, but there was never a chance for him to pick her up when she was down. In fact, for a long time, he didn’t even realize what inner turmoil she was going through. He didn’t learn about her sister until the better part of a year into seeing her. She refused to cry in front of him until she was so overwhelmed with an accidental pregnancy she couldn’t hold the tears in any longer. Looking back on those days, there was a tinge of something else besides mischief and nonsense in her gaze. Something she didn’t want to let come to the surface. Although, at this moment, there was nothing but giddiness radiating from her features. “Emma, we can’t just stay in bed all day. That would be a--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do whatever we fucking want, big guy,” she insisted, pulling away to pat his chest while she wiggled herself between him and the counter. “It’s our four day weekend. We have no kids around. We can literally do </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span> we want… </span>
  <em>
    <span>wherever</span>
  </em>
  <span> we want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the last time, Em, we can’t do the shower. I don’t know how many near death experiences you need to have for that not to be an option anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re just a little fucking dramatic, and it’s also not my fault you have the coordination of a blind three legged moose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>shower! </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s wet. How could you blame me for slipping?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smirked. “I’ll show you something wet,” she murmured under her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pursing his lips to try and hide the grin she was causing, he inhaled sharply. “I’ve been up for the past two hours trying to get everyone out to school and digging the cars out of the snow, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is my first cup of coffee.” He took another swig for emphasis. “I’m not mentally prepared for your shenanigans yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I could help you wake up--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em, come on,” he sighed, still smiling as she wriggled around to pull him from the sink towards the foyer. “I’m really not up yet, and I just wanted to check on one thing--” His words were cut off by her lips again. Not a normal occurrence in the morning. Even on days where they were both leaving the house for work, there were a lot of gentle jabs with hips and taps on butts as they both skittered around to get ready to leave. Normally, she would be tumbling out the door a solid fifteen minutes before him. As she did so, she would place a kiss on the palm of her hand that she would tap against his cheek as she walked by and muttered some version of wishing him a good day, stating she was fucking late again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, the slow purposeful kisses were few and far between especially in the morning. Even at home they were a little rare at that point. They weren’t about to keep their door locked, and there had been just one too many times when horrified children had walked in on them to really take any sort of time with anything of a more intimate nature. He was once so concerned about his morning breath around her. When she first started staying over and would roll over in the morning to make a move on him, he felt so much anxiety over how his breath probably smelled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Jesus, dude, I fucking stuck my tongue down your fucking throat after giving you head last night. Chill.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had kissed him full on the mouth, crawling on top of him in that old bed in that old house. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Your breath </span>
  </em>
  <span>does</span>
  <em>
    <span> smell like shit, but so does mine. But I also haven’t seen you all fucking week, so saddle the fuck up cowboy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It came as no shock to him that he was still just as enthralled by her so many years. He continued to feel as though he had shot out of his league despite her many arguments against it mostly ending her her telling him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>“shut the fuck up, Paul.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Despite every single feeling in his bones. Despite every single dream he had that told him otherwise. She situated herself so she was pressed up against him in the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer. In their home. Sometimes the direction his life had taken felt like this was all some sick joke. Like someone was going to pop out from behind the camera at any moment and tell him this was all some sort of social experiment. His hand landed on her waist, the other tangling itself in her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rested her forehead against his, looking directly into his eyes. “Come back to bed,” she breathed against his lips with another smirk. He let out a breathy chuckle in response. This was his life. His home. His family. His person. He wondered often about how they would have ended had things gone differently. Had they made different choices in life. If they both left Hatchetfield never to return. If they ended up halfway across the world, meeting in some cliche-ridden European cafe where she worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand untangled itself from her hair to rest on her cheek. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone. “Fuck it,” he chuckled, kissing her softly once more. “Okay.” Her eyes were a comfort as they always had been. Even before he really knew her. Just catching her gaze even briefly during their short interactions as employee and customer generated something warm in the pits of his soul. Something familiar like meeting an old friend for dinner. He didn’t know much about those terrible recurring nightmares he had. He figured they were really just something to be written off completely. Deep down, though, a part of him believed that each and every possible road he could take led back to her. Led to this feeling. Led back to this person. Knowing that this was where he was meant to be gave him some solace in an otherwise uncertain road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah! We’re doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> today, Papi! You and me! Goddamn lazy day!” One last quick peck landed at the corner of his mouth before he was being dragged back upstairs. He rolled his eyes at the idea of a lazy day, but couldn’t help but look forward to doing nothing but laying in bed with her all day. So many days had been spent not knowing what he wanted or feeling like he even deserved that at the end of the day. He had admitted it before, ultimately eliciting gagging noises from Ted or wistful sighs from Charlotte, but it was the truth. This was it. This was what he wanted. Every single day for the rest of his days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nineteen years, bud,” she mused as she climbed the stairs with her hand still in his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow. I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She peeked at him over her shoulder. The smile she wore was less impish this time around. A softness washed over her features for a moment. “Don’t tell anyone I said this cheesy shit, but Valentine’s Day may or may not have pushed Halloween out for my favorite holiday,” she admitted before she stabbed a finger in his direction. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It always had been.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emma eats some of Paul's tortilla chips in the middle of the night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So sorry that updates have been so sporadic! My job has had some big software changes going on and it's been just freaking exhausting. AND I hit some stupid writer's block. But here! Enjoy a flashback!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Before</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul was fine being alone. He was okay spending time by himself in that tiny house. He had been for a long time. It had been years since he had lived with Bill. Every night he came home and went about his evening rituals. There was nothing that had bothered him for long long about how he spent his days. It was simple: get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, read a book, go to bed, repeat. Day in and day out, his habits continued. It was easy to fall into a comfortable rhythm. The same thing each and every single day. That was how it was supposed to be. Plain old Paul with his plain old life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as January ticked on, he found himself feeling antsy even on a Friday night. A little twitchy. Flipping idly through pages in a book. Not really reading them. Nothing stuck. He would just sit and glance at his phone screen that would stay black most of the evening. Emma was moving in the following month. He helped her back when she would get off her half day shifts on the weekends or when he left work Monday through Friday. Things felt easy between them. There was never a dull moment in conversation. Something stupid always came up that left one or both of them laughing. She was bringing something out in him he hadn’t seen ever. Something content and even a little brave. Like he was something in this world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone screen was dark still, and the frown deepened on his face. She and Melissa liked to go out on Friday nights. He wasn’t jealous more than the fact that he would’ve liked to spend the evening with her. They liked to do a bar tour every so often. Pop from bar to bar in town to sample their overpriced liquor and then catch some sort of taxi or Uber home. Usually back to her own apartment. Sometimes she would end up hungover on Melissa’s couch and text him early on to pick up something fattening and gross for breakfast. She would show up and he’d have a full on cheese burger and fries still warm on the table for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A clattering came from the front door. Quiet at first. His head popped over the back of the couch as if he would be able to see much of anything outside the radius of the small lamp on the end table beside him. There was jingling on the other side of the door. Then a groan when the wind picked up into a high pitched shriek. He placed the errant receipt he had picked up and used as a bookmark out of necessity into his book. It laid out gently on the end table without a sound. Well, maybe there was a sound. All he could hear was the frantic jiggling of keys against the lock of his door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crept across the floor with socked feet. This was fully how a horror movie began. A person sitting in their house by themselves on a cold winter night. A mysterious noise coming from outside. And he was the idiot about to check on it. Janis mewed at him as he passed her sitting in the doorway of the kitchen. “If I die, please don’t eat my body, Janis,” he whispered, prepared for the worst, yet still proceeding to the door. This is why every friend he ever had was always telling him he would be the first to die in a horror movie. Pure stupidity. He’d never make it to see the end of the story. Fingers wrapped around the bolt lock. He took a deep breath in before turning it. This was it. He pulled the door open and all but gasped at what he saw. “Emma?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A beaming smile grew across her face, pink from the cold. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Heeeeeey</span>
  </em>
  <span>, babycakes!” she greeted with one sloppy finger gun. Her legs were bare save for the short shock of emerald green just barely covering her ass. A black leather jacket was zipped up to her chin but clearly not warm enough. Hair was hanging down over her shoulders, curlier than it usually would be, a pair of gold hoop earrings poking through. Her eyeliner ran a little further down from her eyes than she likely started out with. Eyeshadow was smoked around her eyes, which were glazed and gazing up at him. “I missed you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed past him and into the house, effectively making him feel like a dumbstruck dingus for not inviting her in sooner. He closed the door as quickly as possible with a shiver as she wandered out of the front hall and into the dining and living area, flipping lights on as she went. Janis followed in her wake, moving to rub up against her legs as she walked. Her jacket shed off of her shoulders and dropped onto the table. A black lace tank top framed her still tan shoulders. Though he could barely call it a tank top. It looked more like lingerie she would periodically show him on her phone, asking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How bad would you shit your pants if I wore </span>
  </em>
  <span>this</span>
  <em>
    <span>?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She turned around to reveal the deep v of the top. A smirk laid lazily on her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Zoey</span>
  </em>
  <span> got me t’go out t’night, and I’ve gotta tell ya, man,” she giggled. It wasn’t a normal occurrence to hear her giggle, but that didn’t stop the grin popping onto his face. “We got </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> many free drinks. Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Paul. Why haven’t I always been doin this?” She turned around and gestured to her butt, which </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking impressive in the satin material of the skirt. When turning back to face him, her heel caught on the hardwood and nearly sent her toppling, but she was able to catch herself before she did by some miracle of god. Another round of giggles left her. “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> Zoey is, like…” She squinted as if trying to remember something. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ten</span>
  </em>
  <span> years younger than me? And like, she can hold her fucking booze </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much better, and I’m just a lil fuckin mad about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A response was having a hard time rising in his throat. It felt like just a moment ago he was looking forward to seeing her tomorrow, and then she was there. Showing up at his house in the middle of the night. He glanced at the clock on the microwave as he followed her into the dining area. </span>
  <em>
    <span>2:04</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It really was the middle of the night. He wasn’t entirely sure where the night had gone or why it had decided to go in </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> particular direction. His thoughts were cut short by her, shoving her way back to the kitchen. “You got any chips, sweet thang?” she wondered as she kicked off her heels in front of the sink. He leaned down to pick them up and place them by the door while she rifled through one of the cabinets. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Ah </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuuuuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>! The shoes thing! Sorry!” Before he could get a word in edgewise, a bag of Tostitos was pulled from the cabinet. “Can I have these?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lined her shoes up beside his sneakers neatly, feeling a certain fluttering in his stomach. In less than a month, that would be the lineup all the time. A smile touched his lips, not that it ever really left. “Sure, but it’s not like you to ask permission.” When he brought his attention back to the kitchen, she was already crunching on one chip and reaching into the bag for another. A shit-eating grin stared back at him. He leaned against the doorway. “Have a good time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded emphatically but then furrowed her brows and shoved another chip into her mouth as she shrugged. “Yeah, I guess,” she decided on, peeking into the bag to find the ideal tortilla chip. “Zoey’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind of</span>
  </em>
  <span> an asshole, but I dunno. Don’t think I can take this shit like I used to.” She turned to look back in the cabinet. “Y’got any black beans and cheese? I’d fuckin kill for nachos right now.” Her free hand dug through the cabinet that very clearly didn’t have any sort of canned goods in it all while still holding the chips with the other. She pushed up on her toes to get a better view, muttering something about frijoles and tomatillos. He ran a hand over his face. The smile wouldn’t leave even in the split second he wasn’t watching her. There were so many moments he wondered what she was really like. What it would be like to be the person she came home to. If she was a homebody or if she liked to be out on the town all the time. What kind of music she liked to listen to. What her favorite food was. Here she was, though, digging through his cabinets, mumbling in surprisingly fluent sounding Spanish to herself as she didn’t find what she wanted. She dropped back onto her heels with a huff and turned to face him once more. “You don’t even have any beans, Paul? The fuck, dude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t expect you to show up at two AM looking for beans, Em. I’m sorry.” She puffed, dissatisfied with his answer, before turning on her heel to open up another cabinet, likely in search for the beans he definitely didn’t have. He stifled a yawn with the back of his head, suddenly feeling like he had it in him to sleep now that she was there. “How’d you get here? I hope Zoey didn’t drive you… or </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t drive you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted. “I’m not fuckin dumb,” she laughed, dropping back onto her feet. “I dunno. I did one of those… app ride things? Can’t think of th’word right now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uber? You got an Uber?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes were narrowed when she looked back at him. “Nah,” she replied, pressing her palms against her eyelids. “Not that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lyft?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes shooting open, she pointed two finger guns at him. “Yeah! That’s it!” she hollered while crossing the room to barrel into his chest. Another move he wasn’t expected especially with as much force as she hit him with. He stumbled but managed to hold them up. She rested her chin on his chest and peered up at him. “You’re so smart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit back a laugh. Her cheeks were pink like the night he found her at Melissa’s dressed up like mothman. It felt like ages ago when in reality it was only a couple of months. Hell, they had only just spent Christmas on the beach a few weeks earlier. His hands rested on her cheeks. It would be a year by the time she moved in. A year since that first date. Not that they were anything of any official capacity after that date. He didn’t even try to kiss her before going home, but she still texted him and asked him what he was doing the following Saturday night. Thumbs brushed against her cheekbones. “Thanks for coming over,” he said quietly as if anything quieter than a whisper would disrupt all of space and time. “Even if you’re wasted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another snort left her. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> fuckin wasted,” she laughed, leaning into him. “I got </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>fuckin </span>
  <em>
    <span>drunk </span>
  </em>
  <span>off free drinks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I know,” he responded. “Maybe we can get an entire free dinner next time we go out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes went wide, and her grin went wider. “Now, you’re thinkin!” she gasped, reaching around and giving his butt a firm pat. “See, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is why I love you, kid!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked, unsure he had heard her correctly. She was still pressed against him, smiling up at him with her mouth wide open. It had been something on his mind for a number of months at that point. Honestly, it had been on the tip of his tongue since they left that bar on Valentine’s Day. He had fallen completely and stupidly in love with her immediately. Like a moth being drawn to the flame. He couldn’t keep himself away from her. Even after all that time thinking he would never speak to her at Beanies, he had to keep coming back. There was something magnetic about her. He couldn’t quite place it, but something in him felt alive the moment he set eyes on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all things considered, he was resigned to the fact that she couldn’t say it. That wasn’t okay with him saying he loved her. He knew what he felt and so did she. With each box she brought over and put in the spare room upstairs temporarily, he knew that there was something there for her too. Even if she wouldn’t give a word to it until that moment. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Paaaauuuulll,</span>
  </em>
  <span> can you make me mac and cheese?” she whined, burying her face into his chest. “Like, some of that good blue box Kraft shit? With extra cheese and then we’ll put the chips in it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh!</span>
  </em>
  <span> And then we could watch all </span>
  <em>
    <span>three</span>
  </em>
  <span> of th’</span>
  <em>
    <span>Austin Powers</span>
  </em>
  <span> movies. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>then--</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his hammering heart, he sighed, leaning down to knock his forehead against hers. “You’re not going to remember this in the morning, are you?” he asked, peering into her eyes. Another giggle came out of her as she shook her head against his forehead. A part of him was disappointed. Hopeful that maybe she wasn’t as drunk as she appeared to be. He supposed it was a miracle she even made it to his house. His eyes slid shut, and he took a deep breath in before pulling away from her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to guide her toward the stairs. “Let’s go to bed. We’ll revisit the mac and cheese tomorrow, okay, Drunky Brewster?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned into him hard, heaving with laughter. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Drunky Brewster?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she guffawed while slapping his chest and nearly falling over in the process. He threw a hand out to steady her to her feet. Gripping onto his forearm, she continued to double over with laughter. His smile grew regardless of the mild disappointment he felt in his gut, having been more desperate to hear three silly little words than he thought. She reached out to poke his nose with her index finger but missed and jabbed him right in the cheek. “You’re so cute and funny and my fuckin </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span> friend, you big stupid nerd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doubt that had begun to twist and turn into his guts seemed to dissipate at the look on her dazed face. One of joy and exhaustion but also laced with an overwhelming sense of earnesty. Like the unspoken part of sober Emma was trying to come through and let sober Paul know he needed to chill the fuck out because she was all in. He brought his hand up to rest on her cheek again. She leaned into his touch with a tired smile. “Thanks for making it home in one piece, hot stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed her eyes, smile still present. “Mmm… home,” she hummed as her eyes opened back up. Darker and almost a little glassy. Like she might cry. They caught his own. “Wanna go make out with me, cutie pie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Em, you’re going to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re no fuckin fun!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> no fuckin fun!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul No Fuckin Fun Matthews, my big dumb boyfriend!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scrubbed a hand over his face, laughing. “Yes, Emma, your big dumb boyfriend, Paul No Fucking Fun Matthews,” he agreed. He never thought he would be so thrilled to be called big and dumb </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> no fun, but he felt over the moon at that very second. She loved him, even if she wasn’t able to say it to him when she had all her wits about her yet. It didn’t matter how big or dumb he was because he was hers. He was hers, and she loved him. The wait would just have to be a little longer, but as they clambered up the stairs and she fell into bed--his bed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> bed--he decided that he could wait forever if he needed to. </span>
</p>
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